The Choices We Make
by licoricesnap
Summary: During Ginny's fifth year at Hogwarts, she witnesses something that she had never thought was possible. Will it change the way she thinks about a certain Slytherin?
1. Stupid Guy

The Choices We Make

Chapter 1: Stupid Guy

**A/N: **Hi everyone! I wrote this chapter almost a year ago, and it's been hiding in my files for quite awhile. I just dug it up a few days ago and figured I might as well release it into the public.

I actually don't sail on the Draco/Ginny ship anymore, so I wasn't sure if working on this story was a good idea or not. I guess I'll just see if people like it, and if they do I'll keep it going. I hope you enjoy it! crosses fingers, toes, and tongue Oh and please review!

Thanks!

**Disclaimer: **Hmm… If I owned Harry Potter, I would live in an enormous mansion with a dozen walk-in closets. Since I currently live in a tiny subdivision, and my closet is about 2 feet across, we can safely conclude that I do not own Harry Potter.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Ugh. Two feet of parchment on the properties of wolfsbane? He's mad!" Ginny grumbled to herself before sinking into a chair next to Hermione at the Gryffindor table.

"Snape's hobwork gein oo 'own, Gin?" Ron said, through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

Ginny and Hermione exchanged looks of disgust before snapping at Ron to swallow before trying to talk. This sent the two sixth years into another of their frequent arguments, leaving Ginny to ponder her horrible fate alone. She never imagined the homework would be so extensive in fifth year! Yes, there were the O.W.L.s to prepare for, but was it really necessary to load them down with so much work that she could hardly find time to sleep anymore? However, before she could spend too much time dwelling on this subject, Harry showed up and decided to bring her back into the conversation.

"So Ginny, I heard you broke up with Dean? Sorry to hear about that," Harry said, in what he obviously hoped was a casual, indifferent tone.

"Yeah, Harry I did. He just wouldn't except that I'm a big girl who can climb through the portrait hole all by herself," Ginny answered. She'd noticed that Harry had started to send hopeful looks in her direction at mealtimes, and he also made sure to walk with her back to the school after Quidditch practices.

'Well it's too bad it's taken him five years to realize he's interested!' she thought to herself. 'I mean everyone knows I was crazy about him at first, but does he really expect me to still feel that way?'

Ginny still loved Harry, but he was more like another brother to her than a boyfriend. She'd realized this in her third year, and soon after that she started dating, hoping to find someone who saw her as Ginny, and not as "Ron's little sister" or "the girl with the crush on Harry Potter". Michael Corner was okay, but he was much too obsessed with Quidditch for her liking. Then came Dean, and after that break up, Ginny pretty much found herself on her own for the time being. Once again pulling herself out of her dismal thoughts, Ginny tried to follow Harry's new plans for Quidditch practice.

"Ok, I think if we nail these new techniques, we'll have the game against Slytherin in the bag. I can't wait to see Malfoy's face when we snatch the Cup right out from under them!" Harry exclaimed.

Ron guffawed at the thought, and Hermione scowled at him to "be quiet while she tried to finish reading this paper for Arithmancy".

At the mention of the blonde Slytherin's name Ginny had turned around to look at him, expecting to see him insulting or hexing someone. Instead his silver eyes were fixed on a letter, brought by his eagle owl, who was now helping itself to some of Malfoy's pumpkin juice. As his eyes scanned the page a dark look crossed his pale face, followed by something that looked a lot like panic.

Thinking she must have imagined it, Ginny hurriedly finished up her dinner of steak and kidney pie before begging Hermione to help her with her Potions essay.

"Hermione, please! I'll never get it done with out you, and if Snape gives me a detention I'll miss Quidditch practice! Please, please, please?" she whined.

"Oh, alright! I'll help you, but don't blame me when you fail your O.W.L.s because you haven't done any of your homework with out me correcting every other sentence you write!" Hermione finally agreed.

"Yes! Thanks 'Mione!" Ginny squealed, wrapping her friend in an enormous hug.

"You know Gin, if you strangle me the teachers might have something to say about it, not to mention I won't be able to help you do your homework ever again," Hermione managed to choke out.

oooo

"No, no! Ginny, wolfsbane and _monkshood_ are identical not wolfsbane and mandrake! Come on now, I've been telling you that for ages," Hermione exclaimed later as the two Gryffindors sat in the common room, trying to ignore the first years' game of Exploding Snap going on right next to them.

"Sorry Hermione, but it's kind of hard to concentrate on one's homework when one is in danger of getting their head blown off by those midgets," Ginny grumbled bitterly, sending a withering glare at the eleven year olds. This essay was taking way too long and she just wanted to go to bed and forget about it. When in her life was she going to need to know this stuff anyway? It wasn't as if she wanted to become Professor Snape Jr. or anything.

As if she could read Ginny's thoughts Hermione answered the question she'd been pondering.

"You know Gin, almost every career out there requires you to be able to brew a few potions, and wolfsbane is one of the most important ingredients there is! Now hurry up, you're almost done. Just fix that bit about the mandrake and you should be able to get at least an A on your essay."

'Finally,' Ginny thought, as she corrected her paper to Hermione's liking. 'Maybe I'll actually get some sleep tonight!'

After packing up her quill and parchment, she was about to head upstairs when Hermione called after her.

"Ginny? Can I talk to you about something?" she sounded nervous.

"Sure, 'Mione, but make it quick, I'm exhausted!"

"Oh, no that's alright, I'll just…never mind," Hermione muttered.

Ginny sighed. She knew Hermione. If that girl ever thought she was inconveniencing someone with her own problems, she would just clam up and hope she could deal with it by herself.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so annoyed. We can talk for awhile if you want," Ginny relented.

"Oh, well I just wanted to ask your advice on something," she hesitated. "Let's say there's this guy, and he's been your friend for awhile but lately you feel kind of different around him? Like you start getting nervous and your palms sweat whenever he's around? And you always fight but really you just want to—"

"Hermione, I think I've broken your cleverly devised code. You're talking about Ron, aren't you?" Ginny sighed.

"Oh, um…maybe," Hermione squeaked.

"Oh come on, 'Mione! You guys are perfect for each other. He's just too thick to realize that you're interested."

"But he never shows that _he's_ interested either! He just acts like he always does. I don't think he has feelings for me, or at least not the same ones that I have for him…" Hermione trailed off.

"That's because he has the emotional span of a teaspoon, remember? You said so yourself," said Ginny, grinning.

"I suppose," said Hermione, smiling back. She seemed to gain some confidence after this. "So I've told you who I'm after. Don't you think you should do the same? I mean now that you're over Dean you've got to find someone new, right? Who's it going to be?"

For a second a pale face with stormy eyes flashed in Ginny's mind, but she dismissed it as an effect of lack of sleep.

'That could never happen. He's a Slytherin! His father's a Death Eater; _he's_ probably a Death Eater, too. But then again he is gorgeous, there's no denying that, and he—"

She was broken out of her thoughts by Hermione clearing her throat and looking up at her expectantly.

"Oh, I think I'll probably just stay single for now. There isn't really anybody I'm interested in," she said, tossing back her long red hair and trying to sound casual, but ending up sounding slightly out of breath.

Hermione nodded, but her face was the picture of skepticism.

Biting her lip, Ginny said a quick goodnight before retreating towards the stairs, dodging several explosions coming from the first years on the way up.

Had she just thought of Malfoy as handsome? What was wrong with her! She groaned as she flopped down on her red and gold sheets.

'I just need to sleep,' she thought. 'My brain is obviously not working properly. No wonder I mixed up monkshood and mandrake…' And with thoughts of her potions essay running through her mind, she finally drifted off to sleep.

But not before reminding herself once again that Draco Malfoy was an evil, cocky, cruel, hateful, gorgeous, sexy…stupid guy.


	2. The Letter

The Choices We Make

Chapter 2: The Letter

**A/N: **Chapter two is here! It's a lot longer than the first chapter, but I tried to get it done as soon as possible. Anyway, I'd just like to say thanks so much to Black Roses of death and Orlandoroxmysox, my incredible reviewers! I love you guys! Enjoy the chapter everyone, and please review…(you know you want me to post your name in my next A/N, lol)

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Harry Potter, I would be working as hard as possible to finish the 7th book. Not writing fan fiction.

* * *

The Charms classroom was always full of floating feathers, objects zooming across the floor on their own, and the chatter of the many students involved in giving movement to these otherwise inanimate objects. Today was no exception.

"Settle down, everyone! Settle down!" cried Professor Flitwick over the multitude of other voices. "You've had plenty of time to practice the Summoning Charm. Would anyone like to demonstrate? Ah, Ms. Weasley, why don't you try it?"

Ginny had been doing quite well on this lesson and had managed to work her way from summoning needles, to making large textbooks and even chairs start flying in her direction. She stood up from her seat at the front of the class, and raised her wand confidently.

"Accio Textbook!" she said, making sure to keep her voice very clear.

Luna Lovegood jumped as her Charms book leapt off of her desk and soared right into Ginny's outstretched arms, earning the caster of the spell a well-deserved round of applause.

"Splendid, splendid! Ten points to Gryffindor!" said Professor Flitwick. "Very good job, Ms. Weasley. Well, that's all for today. We'll practice a bit more on Monday. Enjoy your weekend!"

As the students hurried out of the classroom, Ginny swore she could have kissed Professor Flitwick, no matter how far down she'd have to stoop. No homework over the weekend! After the past few days of constant studying, essay-writing, and spell-practicing, it seemed almost too good to be true that she would finally be able to spend some time in Hogsmeade with her friends.

Being in a considerably better mood than she was in yesterday, Ginny decided that she rather fancied a walk around the lake before going down to the Great Hall for dinner. As the rest of her classmates continued walking straight along the corridor towards the stairs, she turned right and started off in the direction of the entrance hall.

'I can't wait to get some fresh air into my system,' she thought, grinning to herself. 'I've been locked up in that stuffy library for too long. I don't know how Hermione can stand it!'

Turning another corner, Ginny grimaced as she heard the voice of a familiar, and very depressed, ghost coming out of a bathroom. Walking a little faster to prevent those dismal tones from spoiling her good mood, she couldn't help but catch a few words of what they were saying.

"Don't," wailed Moaning Myrtle, her voice drifting out of a cubicle and into Ginny's ears. "Don't…tell me what's wrong…I can help you…"

Turning her head to look inquiringly at the entrance to the lavatory, Ginny noticed with a fair amount of shock that it was a _men's _bathroom. What was Myrtle doing in there? Ginny had heard from Harry that the gloomy ghost enjoyed spying on boys in the prefects' bathroom (she never did get the details on how he knew that), but Myrtle sounded miserable, not sneaky or giggly. Well, more miserable than usual at least.

She took a few careful steps towards the bathroom door, pressed her ear against it, and heard another voice, this one deeper and softer than Moaning Myrtle's had been. Still unable to make out what this new voice was saying, she pushed on the wooden door and peeked into the room.

What she saw froze her in her tracks, and she stood with one foot in the bathroom and one still lingering in the corridor, eyes widened in astonishment.

Draco Malfoy stood in the middle of the room, hands gripping the edges of one of the sinks, tears pouring out of the grey eyes that had invaded Ginny's thoughts the day before.

She was attempting to gather her thoughts and get over the initial shock of having seen the Slytherin prince crying his eyes out in a bathroom, when she realized that he was speaking, short gasps of breath escaping from his lips between words.

"I can't do it," said Malfoy, his body trembling violently as he spoke. "I can't…It won't work…and unless I do it soon…he says he'll kill me…."

Ginny didn't know what to do. Her mind told her to leave, leave and forget she had ever witnessed this seemingly impossible sight, but her feet were still frozen to the ground, and her eyes still locked on the sobbing boy in front of her.

Before she could come out of the trance-like state she was currently trapped in, the door gave way in front of her, swinging wide open and revealing her hiding place.

Moaning Myrtle dove into a toilet, sending a spray of water up into the air, and Malfoy spun around, a look of alarm on his tear-stained face, his wand pointed straight at Ginny. She whipped out her own wand, ready to defend herself if the occasion called for it, before noticing that Malfoy's hands were shaking so badly that it would be nearly impossible for his spells to actually hit her.

"Weaslette," he snarled, his voice cracking and another tear escaping down the side of his face.

Ginny held her ground, and watched as Malfoy's wand slipped from his fingers and clattered to the tiled floor. He took a step backwards, his chest heaving as his legs gave out and he sank back down to the floor, consumed by yet another bout of sobs.

All thoughts of hexing him left her mind, and Ginny felt her heart twinge at the sight of the broken boy in front of her, crying and alone on the floor. She stashed her wand back inside her robes and walked cautiously across the room, kneeling down next to him. Her hand settled carefully on his shoulder and she waited, unsure what his reaction would be.

He tensed at the contact, but gradually relaxed and allowed Ginny to wrap her arms around his shoulders, letting the tears continue to flow down his face. His body was shivering uncontrollably as he cried, and Ginny tightened her hold on him, wracking her mind for something to say.

"It's alright," she whispered, rocking him gently back and forth. "Everything's going to be just fine. Shhh…"

'This isn't how it's supposed to be,' she thought. 'Malfoy's supposed to be strutting around the castle, a perfect guy with a perfect life. But right now he just looks like a sad, scared little boy.'

She wondered at this new side of Draco Malfoy. The side that would break down in front of someone he hates, and then proceed to let them comfort him. His sobs came less frequently now, and eventually quieted to soft hiccups as Ginny continued to whisper words of reassurance into his ear.

When his crying had stopped completely, Ginny pulled away from him slightly, just enough to be able to speak to him.

"Malfoy? Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

He shook his head.

"Are you feeling alright? I can take you to the hospital wing if—"

Interrupting her with another shake of his head, Malfoy pulled out of her arms and stood up. He paced across the room several times, running his hand through his hair, and then began rummaging in his pockets for something. Walking back to where Ginny was still sitting on the bathroom floor, he handed her a slightly crinkled envelope.

Recognizing it as the letter she had seen him reading the night before, she opened it hesitantly, almost afraid to see what it held inside. Glancing up at Malfoy, she looked carefully into his eyes. He looked back at her, facing her coffee-colored eyes with his stormy gray ones, before speaking in a voice that was almost a whisper.

"Go ahead," he said. "Read it."

Turning her attention back to the letter in her hands, she unfolded the last crease and began to read.

Draco,

I have been informed that your plan is taking longer than expected. This is absolutely not acceptable, as it is imperative that we act as soon as possible. The teachers will become suspicious if you are missing too many classes, and it will be a miracle if you manage to elude the headmaster for much longer. It has also come to my attention that several of your schemes have backfired miserably. Really, Draco, did you actually believe that the necklace or the mead would reach the correct target? You are getting desperate, and that attitude will only result in failure. The Dark Lord is getting impatient, and if he doesn't see some results soon, he will not hesitate to kill both you and your mother. Do not humiliate me Draco. I refuse to let the Malfoy name be sullied by your incompetence.

-Lucius

'So Harry was right,' Ginny thought. 'Malfoy really was up to something. And from the sound of it, he's a Death Eater as well.'

She looked back up at him, fear and disbelief showing in her eyes. Standing up slowly, she handed the letter back to him.

"You've been trying to kill someone, haven't you?" said Ginny.

Malfoy tucked the letter back inside his robes and didn't answer.

"That's what your father was talking about," she continued. "All that about schemes and plans and correct targets. That can only mean one thing."

Malfoy sighed and leaned against one of the walls before answering.

"You read what he wrote. If I don't do what they say, they'll kill my mother. I don't have a choice in this."

"You always have a choice, Malfoy."

He looked at her in mild surprise, but quickly went back to staring at the wall opposite him as he spoke.

"That's not true. Do you expect me to just sit back and let them kill off the only person who cares about me? Sometimes there are no choices, Weaslette."

Ginny couldn't believe he was being so stubborn. How could he give up hope before even trying? He would be throwing his life away for nothing if he didn't try to get himself out of this dreadful situation. She walked across the room to stand in front of him, forcing him to look at her while she spoke.

"Stop being ridiculous," she said firmly. "You do have a choice in this, no matter what your father tells you. The choices we make show us who we really are. I know at least that much is real."

There was silence as Draco stared down at Ginny, trying to gauge the truth of her words. She stared back, urging him silently to believe her, to try to be something other than what his father had insisted on him becoming.

"What can I do?" he said finally, breaking the quiet around them.

"We'll go to Dumbledore," Ginny replied. "He'll be able to help. I'm sure he will."

Draco swallowed and nodded his head, and the two of them turned towards the door. Peeking outside to make sure the corridor was still empty, they left the bathroom and started making their way across the school to the headmaster's office, Ginny in the lead and Draco trailing behind.

Neither of them spoke, and the only sound they heard was the steady clicking of their shoes against the stone floor, and the distant voices of the students in the Great Hall enjoying their dinner. They climbed a flight of stairs, turned three corners, and walked down several corridors without saying a word.

oooo

When they arrived at the entrance to the headmaster's office, Ginny paused and turned around to look at Draco.

"Er, I don't suppose you know the password?" she questioned.

He didn't.

With no other alternative, the two students set about trying to guess the words that would grant them entrance to Dumbledore's office.

"Chocolate Frogs!"

"Acid Pops!"

"Fizzing Whizbees!"

"Pepper Imps!"

"Blood Pops!"

That earned Ginny a strange, and slightly disgusted, look from Draco.

"You don't actually eat those do you?" he asked. "They're supposed to be for vampires."

"I know that!" Ginny said crossly. "George gave me one when I was little. Said it was cherry flavored. Toothflossing Stringmints!"

The gargoyle that had been guarding the entrance sprang aside, and allowed Ginny and Draco access to the door to Dumbledore's office. Ginny rushed forward and lifted the heavy brass knocker, before noticing that Draco hadn't moved and was still standing on the opposite side of the hallway.

"Aren't you coming?" she asked. "Everything will be okay, I promise. He'll be able to help you."

"If—If you say so," Draco answered, taking several hesitant steps forward.

Ginny turned back around and let the knocker fall from her hands, thumping down against the door. It swung open and Ginny led the way into the headmaster's office.

"Good evening, Miss Weasley—Mr. Malfoy," said a voice from across the room.

Ginny and Draco glanced towards a desk sitting in the corner, and caught sight of their headmaster. They walked over to him, preparing themselves mentally for the events that were about to unfold.

Dumbledore's blue eyes swept over his two students, looking not a bit surprised at seeing both of them together. It seemed that nothing in the world could disturb the quiet calm that surrounded the headmaster of Hogwarts. Not even seeing two complete rivals stroll into his office, side by side.

"Please, take a seat," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "I'd offer you both a lemon drop, but from the looks on your faces, this is neither the time nor the place for such luxuries."

"You're quite right, Professor," said Ginny, settling herself into one of the comfy armchairs in front of Dumbledore's desk. "Er—I was just walking past one of the bathrooms, when I heard…um, well I talked to Draco and…and we have something important that we think you should know."

"Oh? And what might that be?" said the headmaster, looking up at Draco, who had remained standing.

Draco fidgeted under the intense gaze of his professor, debating with himself about how to voice his problem. He couldn't very well hand over his letter and expect Dumbledore to figure it out himself, like he did to the Weaslette, could he? There was nothing for it. He would just have to explain it himself.

"You see, Professor," he began. "I got a letter from my father yesterday, telling me…telling me that I had to work faster on the plan for Voldemort."

Dumbledore lowered his eyes and focused his gaze upon his clasped hands, which were resting on the surface of his desk. He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then spoke carefully, a hint of sorrow buried underneath his eternal calm.

"So very sad that Voldemort is now enlisting children to do his bidding," he said. "But Draco, I am sure he never meant for you to succeed in your task. Killing me is beyond your abilities, I'm afraid."

Draco's head snapped up and he looked uneasily at the headmaster. Dumbledore's steady gaze met his eyes, and the young Slytherin's expression changed from shock, to confusion.

"How did you…" he began, his voice trailing off before he could finish his inquiry.

"Oh, I have known for a long time Draco," the headmaster said, smiling slightly. "In fact, I'm willing to bet that even Voldemort himself knew that I was aware of his plan. He also knows I would never harm a student to save myself, so he continued to let you attempt to fulfill your goal."

Ginny had been sitting in shocked silence for the past few minutes, allowing her mind time to comprehend all that was going on. Needless to say, it was going to take awhile. Abandoning her silent approach, Ginny exploded with questions, voicing every thought that had been swimming around in her head.

"Draco's job was to kill you?" she cried. "And you knew about it? Why didn't you do something? What can we do?"

Ginny had sprung up out of her chair, and moved to stand directly in front of Dumbledore, her eyes flashing with bewilderment and desperation.

"I believe a simple 'yes' will satisfy your first two questions nicely," Dumbledore said. "However, as to why I did nothing, a more complex answer is required. I did not want to endanger Draco, or anyone else, by bringing this situation out into the open. Secrecy is a form of protection, which will be of the essence in these circumstances."

Ginny sank back into her chair and stared at her knees, somewhat embarrassed at her sudden outburst. It wasn't like her to be disrespectful to her professors, but this whole affair had been so emotionally draining that she really doubted her ability to control her actions right now. She was dragged out of her thoughts when she heard Draco start to speak, and she raised her eyes to look at his face.

"Professor…" he said slowly. "You didn't answer her last question. What can we do about all this?"

"Unfortunately, I cannot answer that." Dumbledore paused and pushed his half-moon glasses up his nose. "Only you can decide what will happen next, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco stared at him. He had absolutely no idea how to get himself out of this mess! He had thought that Dumbledore of all people would be able to find a solution to his dilemma. A way out of the snarled web of lies, hatred, and death that Voldemort wove around every one of his followers. Wasn't the headmaster supposed to be a sort of genius, who could pull an answer out of a hat or something? The whole reason he came here was to get help escaping the future in store for him. Well, that and the fact that he had been having trouble refusing the Weaslette when she was looking so fierce and compassionate. But that was really beside the point.

"However," Dumbledore interrupted his thoughts. "Although I cannot choose your future for you, I can give you several options to pick from. The first of which would be that you continue about your life as if you had never spoken to me, or Miss Weasley, and carry on taking orders from Voldemort."

Ginny looked nervously at Draco, not sure what to expect. Dumbledore had made it sound so easy for him to just forget everything that had happened, and pretend he had never been found crying in that bathroom. She watched apprehensively as he opened his mouth to answer.

"Er…," Draco cleared his throat gently. "Option number two?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly, and Ginny let out a breath of air, relaxing noticeably.

"Option number two is that you abandon Voldemort and let us, meaning myself and the rest of the Order, hide you away and imply that you died. Nobody would be surprised that you had failed in your attempt to kill me, and I will even go so far as to say that Voldemort expects it."

No matter how tempting the offer sounded, Draco felt that to accept it would be a coward's way out. Faking a suicide to escape facing your problems, seemed just as bad as actually committing one. He could live with being an arrogant, narcissistic brat, but somehow, being labeled a coward seemed a great deal worse.

"Are there any other alternatives, Professor?" He sighed, doubting that the old headmaster had anything else up his sleeve. Two choices were more than he had expected anyway.

"There is one more, yes," Dumbledore replied, nodding his head. "You could always become a spy for our side. However, I must warn you that it is dangerous work. Spies are generally shunned by both sides, for they must act in the utmost of secrecies, and therefore have few to turn to in their times of need." He paused for a moment, gauging his student's reaction to this information. "Remember, I do not think to choose your future for you, Mr. Malfoy. The decision must be made by you and you alone."

Ginny was once again sitting rigidly in her chair, her eyes locked on Draco's face, studying his every movement. Lips pressed together and chin resting against his hand, he seemed to be thinking hard about Dumbledore's words, calculating the effects that his choice would have on his life. Shifting her eyes to glance at her headmaster, she noticed that he too was watching Draco intently, waiting for his decision.

He lowered his hands from his face. "I'll do it," he said quietly.

"Very well," said Dumbledore. He pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, and began to write. "I'll have you give this to Professor Snape during your next potions lesson, and he will inform you of what will be happening next."

Dumbledore folded up the letter and handed it to Draco. Clasping his hands again and resting them on his desk, he surveyed the two students over the top of his glasses.

"Now then," he began. "I believe the both of you should be getting down to the Great Hall. They should still be serving dinner, and we can't have you going to bed with empty stomachs."

Ginny and Draco stood up. "Yes, professor," they chorused, turning around to walk back out of the office.

As the door closed behind them, Dumbledore sat with a thoughtful expression across his wizened face. It was a wonderful thing, that two rivals could put aside their differences to help each other in the gravest of situations. He supposed that it just goes to show that even in the darkest of times, people could find it in themselves to come to the aid of their fellow human beings, and friendships could be born.

oooo

Outside in the corridor, Ginny began walking towards the Great Hall, Draco by her side. An awkward silence settled over them, and Ginny wracked her mind for something to say. 'Well, what _can _I say?' she thought, biting her lip. 'He's just agreed to put himself in an even more dangerous situation than before, and it's all my fault!' Her heart fell as this thought invaded her mind. She had only wanted to help him by taking him to Dumbledore, not lead him into an even greater mess. He'd probably hate her now. No, wait. He already hated her. Now he probably loathes her beyond imagination.

Ginny was jolted out of her musings as Draco broke the suffocating silence. "You, know," he said, a shadow of his old smirk touching his face. "As much as it kills me to say this, you were right Weaslette. I did have a choice. Three of them, in fact."

Ginny stopped walking suddenly, and Draco took a moment to realize that she was no longer next to him. He turned around to look at her as she stared at him in surprise.

"You mean—You're not angry?" she asked incredulously. "I just made your life go from bad to worse, and now you're telling me I was right all along?"

Draco's face wrinkled in confusion. "Why would I be angry? You and Dumbledore found me a way out, and I don't care if it's dangerous. Anything's better than how it was before."

Ginny began walking again, continuing on towards the Great Hall. "So you do want to be a spy?" she said.

Draco looked exasperated. "Yes, I want to be a spy! I do want Voldemort gone you know, no matter how much my reputation may point otherwise."

It was definitely true that his status as a Slytherin and a pureblood caused many assumptions, most of which were not very good. Ginny blushed and looked down at the floor. She hadn't given any thought to the fact that he might actually want Voldemort to be defeated just as much as the rest of them did. They turned another corner, and found themselves at the entrance to the Great Hall, laughter and the clattering of knives and forks drifting through the door. Stopping abruptly, the two of them glanced nervously at each other.

Ginny cleared her throat. "Well… I'll see you around I guess," she said finally.

"Yeah, um," Draco started. He took a deep breath and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Thanks."

Ginny smiled thoughtfully, and looked into his grey eyes. He really wasn't all that bad after all. In fact, she was even ready to take back what she had thought about him last night. Well, most of it anyway. He was still gorgeous, but at least now she knew he had a sweet side to go along with his handsome face. Pushing carefully on the wood of the door, they slipped inside the Great Hall unnoticed and walked quietly back to their tables.


	3. Close Calls and Candy

The Choices We Make

Chapter 3: Close Calls and Candy

**Disclaimer: **I just own the plot. Everything else is J. K. Rowling's. :(

**A/N: **This chapter was actually meant to be combined with Ch. 4, but I decided to break it up to avoid cramming too much into one chapter. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Ginny awoke slowly, pulling her blankets up to her chin and snuggling deeper into the sheets. She rolled over onto her back and stared out her window at the cloudless sky, as thoughts of the previous day's events surfaced in her hazy mind. 

What had begun as a perfectly normal day turned out to be filled with more abnormal occurrences than she would ever have thought possible. If she didn't know better, she would have decided that it was all a dream or a figment of her imagination. As soon as she had opened her eyes, the memories had come rushing back so forcefully that she was wide awake within seconds.

Ginny threw off her blanket and jumped out of bed so quickly that it made her head spin, and she had to sit back down for a moment. Once she could see straight again, she grabbed a clean set of robes and ran into the bathroom to get ready. After a few minutes of trying to force her shoe onto the wrong foot, she managed to get all her clothes on in the proper places. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and frowned at the sight of her hair, which was in thorough disarray, no doubt due to a night of fitful tossing and turning.

Sighing in defeat, Ginny tied the vibrant red stuff into a tight bun and grabbed her wand before jogging down the stairs into the common room. She blinked at the empty chairs and the lack of homework that was usually strewn about at random. Realizing that she had neglected her alarm clock this morning and had no idea what time it was, she dashed out of the portrait hole towards the Great Hall.

Though she hated to admit it, Ginny envied Hermione's ability to get up in the mornings with little to no difficulty. It was as if that girl had some sort of inner clock that told her exactly when it was time to get out of bed and head down to breakfast.

Ginny's stomach rumbled loudly at the thought of food, and she glanced around to make sure no one had heard. The corridor was as empty as the common room, which only ended up making her feel worse about her lateness.

'I'm probably missing breakfast,' she thought. 'Or worse, my first class!'

With the idea of a possible detention looming in her mind, Ginny broke into a sprint. Harry would kill her if she missed Quidditch practice just because she was too stupid to set her alarm clock, and what with everything she had witnessed yesterday, she didn't think she could handle the stress.

Arriving at the oak doors that led to the Great Hall, Ginny slowed to a walk and pushed them open. The four house tables were still full of students eating and laughing, and she let out a breath of air, grateful to have escaped the dreadful fate of detention.

She walked over to the Gryffindor table, feeling much more cheerful than she had been only minutes ago. Sitting down in the last vacant chair, she greeted her friends and was met with polite "good morning"s from Harry and Hermione, along with several grunts from Ron, whose mouth was too full for him to manage anything more dignified.

"Are you excited about Hogsmeade, Ginny?" said Harry between bites of oatmeal. "I can't wait to get into Brilliante Brooms. Ron and I want to check out some of their new Quidditch equipment."

Ginny mentally smacked herself. 'I forgot about Hogsmeade weekend!' she thought. 'No wonder everyone came down to breakfast early.' In her hurry to get out of the dormitories, she hadn't even glanced at her calendar, which would have informed her of why the common room was so suspiciously empty. She wondered if Malfoy had remembered, and if he would even bother going now that he had so much else to worry about. Glancing up at Harry, she noticed his eyes locked on her face and remembered that he had been talking to her.

"That sounds like fun, Harry. I'm just grateful I can go at all, really. I've been practically drowning in homework lately, so it'll be nice to take a break."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was stopped when a flock of owls flew over their heads, signaling the arrival of the mail.

Grateful for the distraction, Ginny grabbed a muffin and bit into it thoughtfully, scanning the room for any sign of Malfoy. She spotted him over at the Slytherin table, eating toast and laughing with his friends. Just by looking at him, no one would have been able to guess what he had been going through. Ginny alone was the only student who knew about his situation, and she had been debating with herself over whether or not to keep it that way.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had certainly kept secrets from her before, but for some reason that seemed different. The three of them had something special that Ginny would never be a part of. She had accepted that and was still good friends with them, even if she was sometimes jealous of the bond they shared. Although she was used to not being in on every one of their secrets, she still felt guilty keeping something this monumental all to herself.

There was of course, the possibility that they wouldn't even believe her. After all, Draco had been their rival for six years, and it would be hard for them to accept that he hated his life as much as he hated them. It would be for the best if she didn't tell them what had happened. She was under enough pressure as it were, and there was no point in alienating herself from her friends on top of everything else.

Swallowing her last bite of muffin, she gave Malfoy another quick look before joining the throng of students leaving the Great Hall.

oooo

"Bit windy, isn't it?" said Hermione, as the four Gryffindors wandered down the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade.

'Only Hermione could be an optimist about this,' thought Ginny, fighting to keep moving forward as the wind insisted she walk in the opposite direction.

They had been in Hogsmeade for only a few minutes, but she was already contemplating making a quick escape back to the school. The weather had looked pleasant enough through her bedroom window, but once she got outside her opinion had changed.

Ginny usually didn't mind the wind. The light gusts and breezes that floated around the castle on most days were quite enjoyable, really. The cold, draining blasts of air that were currently rocketing around Hogsmeade, however, were another story. Constantly being pushed off course was getting frustrating, and Ginny found herself thanking Merlin that she had decided to wear her hair up today. Judging by the strength of the wind, she would never have been able to get all the knots out if it wasn't tucked away safely behind her head.

"Oh, look there's Honeydukes!" cried Ron suddenly, pointing across the street. "They've got a new type of fudge in there. Let's go, come on!"

He charged toward the door as the others sighed and trekked after him. There really was no keeping Ron away from food, especially when it contained mass quantities of sugar.

Warm, sweet-smelling air enveloped them when they stepped inside the shop, and bells jingled as the door closed behind them. It looked as if half of Hogwarts had taken refuge here from the bitter wind. Students of all ages stood clustered around jars and candy counters, the younger ones pressing their faces against the glass, awed by the colorful sweets and their outrageous effects on whoever was daring enough to taste them.

Ron pushed his way to the front of the store to examine the new butter pecan flavored fudge, leaving a crowd of disgruntled people in his wake. Apologizing profusely for her friend's rude behavior, Hermione tagged along and attempted to scold him, but failed to attract his attention away from the sugary confections.

Ginny blew on her fingers to try and return some of the feeling to them. She hadn't realized how cold it had been outside, but thanks to Honeydukes' toasty interior, she was rapidly warming up. Deciding against trying to force her way through the crowd, she stood near the front of the shop and watched as Ron filled his bag to the brim with various sweets. Hermione had given up on her campaign to teach him some manners, and was instead helping him choose between gum drops and licorice wands.

Harry looked up from a jar of Pepper Imps he had been inspecting. "I can't believe they haven't realized it yet," he said, shaking his head. "I figured it was only a matter of time after that fiasco at the Yule Ball, but they really are too stubborn for their own good."

Ginny chuckled. "Hermione's the only stubborn one," she said. "Ronald is just too thick to realize what's going on."

"You'd think even he would have noticed it by now, though. I mean, just look at them."

After emptying his pockets to pay for the immense amount of sugar he was purchasing, Ron opened one of the bags and dug around for a while before emerging with a handful of Chocolate Frogs. Offering one to Hermione, he was unable to detect the faint hint of a blush across her cheeks as she accepted it, due to the fact that he was already busy enjoying his chocolate.

Glancing at Harry, Ginny noticed a wistful look on his face. "It's kind of sad, really," he said. "They shouldn't have to hide how they feel about each other. No one should have to."

Harry was gazing pointedly at her, and Ginny sensed that they had entered dangerous territory. Panic welling up inside of her, she scanned the room desperately for something to distract him. Her eyes fell on a box of lollipops and she rushed over to it.

"Oh, I love these! Have you ever tried one, Harry? They're delicious!"

She reached into the box and pulled one out, waving it in front of Harry's face. He plucked it out of her hand and cocked his head to one side while reading the label. Wrinkling his nose, he looked back at the anxious redhead.

"Um, Ginny? I don't really think these are meant for human consumption…I guess the owners are just trying to be inter-species friendly."

Ginny lowered her eyes to the sign on the box of lollipops, and read:

**Blood Pops**

_A delicious (and nutritious) candy _

_that is guaranteed to satisfy your _

_cravings for 24 hours or more! _

_Perfect for avoiding temptation _

_during close contact with the living._

_Only 4 Sickles a dozen!_

'Oh, not those ghastly things _again_!'

She gulped and tried to laugh, but ended up sounding more unnatural than ever. "Haha! I was just kidding Harry, you know me. Always joking around, being silly, and all."

Harry was looking at her as if he was seriously concerned for her sanity. He dropped the bizarre lollipop back into its box and wiped his hands on his cloak, opening his mouth to speak. Ginny cringed inwardly. She hoped that her diversion had made him forget about their previous conversation, even though making him think she had gone mad wasn't exactly the effect she had been aiming for.

"Hey, Harry!" said Ron, who had suddenly appeared from behind several bulging shopping bags. "I finally got Friedrich the Funny! I've been looking for this one forever."

He waved the Chocolate Frog Card in front of Harry, and for once Ginny felt grateful for her brother's obsessive collecting. At least she could escape an awkward conversation with Harry, even if she'd most likely have to endure weeks of being forced to look at the overly cheerful wizard on Ron's new card.

Hermione fought her way through the crowd towards them, holding a half eaten Chocolate Frog and lugging yet another shopping bag, no doubt filled with more of Ron's beloved sugar.

She set it down heavily and brushed a stray curl out of her eyes. "I do hope you're planning on sharing all this Ronald. No one person could eat it all and survive the ordeal."

Ron grinned and reached into one of his bags. "Watch me," he said, and proceeded to stuff his face with fudge.

Looking at him in disgust, Hermione turned towards Harry and Ginny. "What do you say we move on, then? I really want to check out the bookstore, and if we stay here much longer I don't think we'll ever be able to drag him out." She jerked her head in Ron's direction, and he glowered at her.

Lifting the many bags of sweets off of the floor, the four Gryffindors walked back out into the street. An icy blast of air attacked them as soon as they left the warmth of Honeydukes, and Ginny groaned as her nicely defrosted fingers began to sting with cold.

They walked past Zonko's, Dervish and Banges, and the Owlery, before Hermione spotted what she was looking for.

"There's Trillangers Tomes! Is it alright if I leave you guys for a while to go and look? I shouldn't be long, but I'm not sure any of you would really enjoy coming with me."

Harry nodded his head. "Sure. Ron and I were planning on going to Brilliante Brooms anyway. Why don't we meet back at Honeydukes in an hour?"

Hermione agreed and ran off to the bookstore, leaving Harry, Ron, and Ginny to continue battling the wind.

"Well, I guess I'll see you in an hour then," said Ginny. She was not looking forward to any possible alone time with Harry, considering how uncomfortably their last conversation had ended.

Predictably, Harry frowned at this news. "Aren't you coming with us? They've got a whole new line of Quidditch supplies that have only just been released. And I'd really like some company."

"But isn't Ron going with you?"

"Well, yeah, but he'll probably still be too focused on proving Hermione wrong about that whole 'you'll never eat all that by yourself' thing." True enough, Ron was so intent on his fudge that he hadn't even noticed his companion's talking about him.

Harry sighed and looked back at Ginny. "Please, Gin?"

Biting her lip, she realized that Harry Potter was begging her to hang out with him. Harry Potter_. Begging. _A few years ago she would have been ecstatic. With those intense green eyes boring into hers, she would have melted at his feet in a second. 'How ironic,' she thought bitterly. 'As soon as I decide I'm happy just being his friend, _he_ decides he wants more.'

Ginny shook her head to clear her thoughts. "Harry, I'm sorry, but I really need to buy some new quills. I've been getting so much homework lately, and mine have gotten all worn out." She crossed her fingers in her pocket, hoping he'd believe her story.

Harry's unruly hair seemed to wilt in disappointment, but he didn't question her excuse. "Oh. Alright. I'll see you later, then?"

"Yes, definitely. Later. Bye guys!" said Ginny, before whirling around and hurrying off down the road.

Shoving her hands deeper into the pockets of her jacket, she slowed to a walk and turned off of Hogsmeade's main street. The day was barely even half over, and she'd already had two close calls involving Harry's newfound goal of revealing his feelings to her. Her narrow escapes were not very encouraging, considering the fact that she would sooner or later run out of luck and/or excuses. Not that she didn't feel guilty about lying to Harry. No matter how uncomfortable she was with his obvious affection for her, he was still one of her best friends, and she loved him.

If only she were in the same situation as Ron and Hermione. Even if they didn't realize it, the two of them really were quite lucky. Finding someone you want to be with is tricky enough, let alone someone who wants to be with you in return. All they have to do is tell each other how they feel, and then they would live happily ever after. Ginny frowned and kicked a pebble down the street. She knew things didn't work that way in the real world, but she couldn't stop herself from imagining it. She had always hoped to find someone who was made for her, and watching Ron and Hermione everyday only made her yearning stronger.

As Ginny continued walking, the buildings thinned out and gave way to grass-covered hills and the occasional cabin, home to one of the many inhabitants of Hogsmeade village. The stone street melted into a dirt path, and she caught a glimpse of the Shrieking Shack up ahead. People rarely visited it since the story of Professor Lupin had leaked out, so Ginny decided that it was the perfect place for an uninterrupted rest.

Bracing herself against the tireless wind, she marched up the hill leading to the shack. When she arrived at the top, she sank down onto a stone bench, panting from the climb.

It wasn't until her breathing had returned to its normal rhythm, that she realized she was not alone on the hilltop.

* * *

**A/N: **Review, Review, Review! 


	4. Embarrassment by Candlelight

The Choices We Make

Chapter 4: Embarrassment by Candlelight

**Disclaimer: **Of all the valuable things I own (which are limited to this laptop and several cats), Harry Potter is not one of them.

**A/N: **Whew! Chapter 4 is finally finished! I was forced to go on a four day (very boring) vacation, which meant no writing for a while. Whatever will I do when school starts? Anyway, to my reviewers: As always, you are worth your weight in gold! Your opinions mean so much to me, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Please review!

* * *

The rich, dusty smell that was unique to new books never failed to put a smile on her face. Hermione walked up and down the aisles of the bookstore, stopping often to examine the dozens of shelves that were piled high with the objects she revered. Pulling A Complete Guide to Advanced Arithmancy off of its perch, she added it to the growing pile of books in her arms.

Staggering slightly under the weight of her precious tomes, she made her way over to one of the squashy armchairs that dotted the inside of the shop. Her arms ached something awful, but she managed to deposit her burden gently onto the floor. Not wanting to leave her comfortable chair, Hermione checked her watch and smiled gratefully when she realized that her friends would not be expecting her for another half hour.

She had to admit that she was somewhat curious as to what went on between them after she had left for the bookstore. The window of the shop had given her a clear view of Harry and Ginny's conversation, and although she hadn't heard a word of it, she had a pretty good idea of what they had been saying.

It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Harry had feelings for the younger girl. Hermione supposed that he had wanted her to spend more time with him, perhaps to get an opportunity to talk to her alone.

'As if she would fall for that,' she chuckled to herself. She had seen Ginny rush off down the street, which was a sure sign that she had only just escaped from Harry's affections.

Ginny had told her, of course, that she had gotten over her infatuation with Harry long ago, but Hermione couldn't help but think that there was more than one reason for her reluctance towards him. She hadn't missed the look on Ginny's face when she asked her who she fancied that night in the common room. On top of that, the youngest Weasley had been acting awfully strange for the past few days, what with her recent tendency to space out in the middle of conversations and all. There was something that she wasn't telling anyone, and Hermione strongly suspected that it involved a guy.

Reaching into her pile of books and grabbing one that looked interesting, she cleared her mind of such thoughts. Whatever was going on with Ginny, she knew that she would find out about it eventually. After all, nothing can stay a secret forever. She opened her book and inhaled the familiar scent, before turning to the first chapter and immersing herself in its pages.

oooo

Ginny glanced up from her seat on the bench, and was startled to see that there was a figure leaning up against the fence that ran around the Shrieking Shack. Looking closer, she realized that it was none other than the Slytherin who had been occupying her thoughts all day.

His back was facing her, and she watched as the wind ruffled his hair and he tightened his arms around his cloak, the folds of fabric flapping wildly. Scooting over on the bench, Ginny was able to catch a glimpse of the side of his face. Although his eyes were facing the Shrieking Shack, it seemed that he was looking right through it at something that was visible only to him.

Deciding that he had probably come up the hill to be alone, Ginny eased herself carefully off the bench and turned to leave. She hadn't taken more than two steps before she heard a resounding snap beneath her feet, as her shoe broke a stick cleanly in half. Wincing, she peeked at Malfoy and was met with a pair of silvery eyes.

Ginny gulped. "I-I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't know anyone else was up here. I'll just go."

Draco turned back to the decrepit building in front of him. "You have as much right to be here as I do. I'm not making you leave."

Assuming that this was as close as he would come to asking her to stay, Ginny walked over to the fence and rested her elbows on it.

"So what did the Dream Team think of it?" Draco asked, still not looking at her.

"Think of what?" she said, fighting to keep her face looking nonchalant. She was sure that she knew exactly what he was talking about, but she would rather not let him know that his predicament was all she could think about lately.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her, not surprised that she was avoiding the topic. "You know what," he said sternly.

Ginny dropped her gaze to her hands. She really did have to work on her acting skills, if this was the sort of situation she would be continuously forced into. Talking to Malfoy about "the Dream Team," as he had so scornfully dubbed them, was uncomfortable enough, without having to explain why she had essentially lied to them by keeping his secret.

"They didn't think anything," she answered, surveying the sky above their heads. The wind had blown heavy grey clouds out of the countryside, and they hung over Hogsmeade village ominously. "I didn't mention it to them. And don't ask me why, because I honestly don't know." Ginny gave him a defiant stare, daring him to disobey her.

Draco didn't object to her answer, but merely nodded his head in acknowledgment. "The less people who know, the better. I'd rather not have something like this spread around the entire school, if you know what I mean," he said, throwing her a glance.

Ginny grinned, relieved that he wasn't going to question her any further. "So I take it you haven't told anyone either?" she asked.

"Who do I have to tell? Crabbe and Goyle either wouldn't understand a word of it, or they'd just report me to their fathers. Pansy's notorious gossiping skills would have enlightened the majority of the student population within an hour, and Blaise would probably shun me for life for disgracing Slytherin house by associating with a Gryffindor."

Ginny felt something inside of her twinge painfully at his final words. 'He still thinks of me as a disgrace, after all this?' she thought, more miserably than she would have liked. She knew the two of them were far from being friends, but she had hoped that they were past the stage where pride between houses decided who could socialize with whom.

Draco looked sideways at Ginny's face and noticed the disappointed look that had settled on her features. He stared at her confusedly, wondering at her ability to change moods at the speed of light.

'Did I say something wrong?' he wracked his mind for any clue as to why Ginny had suddenly turned sullen and distant. '…and then I said that Blaise would shun me for life for…_Oh._ Oops.'

Silently berating himself for being so tactless, Draco cleared his throat and tried to rectify his mistake. "Not that Gryffindor's are anything to be ashamed of," he said, studying Ginny's face for any sign of forgiveness. "I mean, who cares what Blaise thinks, right?"

Ginny giggled, the unhappiness gone from her face. "I didn't know you were capable of being nice," she teased.

Draco blanched, his eyes wide. "I'm not!" he spluttered, sounding deeply offended.

Ginny fought to keep herself from laughing at the expression on the blond Slytherin's face. His indignant look faded, and she noticed that his usually pale cheeks had been tinged pink by the wind. Combined with the faint pout that still lingered on his mouth from her unintentional insult, he actually looked quite…sweet.

She felt something cold land on the tip of her nose, interrupting her thoughts (which was most likely quite fortunate, as her mind had begun to wander down a dangerous trail). Reaching up to touch the offending projectile, she came away with wet fingers, and had barely enough time to comprehend what it meant before the sky opened up and torrents of rain came cascading down from the clouds.

"Oh _no!_" Ginny moaned, pulling the hood of her sweater out from beneath her cloak in a vain attempt to keep the cold drops of water at bay.

Draco was less lucky, as he had neglected to wear anything resembling a hood. "Well don't just stand there!" he said. "We have to get into one of the shops before we drown!" His silvery locks were already plastered to his face from the rain, and he didn't want to risk causing any permanent damage to them. He liked his hair. It was very good-looking hair.

Ginny rolled her eyes at him. "Don't be such a drama queen," she replied, before taking off down the hill without waiting for him to object to her statement.

Draco opened his mouth to do just that, but changed his mind when he saw that the hooded girl was already half way down the hill. Grumbling irritably to himself, he hurried after her.

oooo

Ginny yanked open the door to the first shop she came across and jumped inside, Draco not far behind. She leaned against the wall and tried to catch her breath, while drops of water rolled off of her clothes and onto the floor. A plump, grey-haired witch in a frilly pink and white apron walked past and gave the newcomers a curious look, leading Ginny to believe that they had arrived in a restaurant of some sort.

Looking around, she began to recognize their surroundings. 'Oh no,' she thought, her eyes widening. 'It can't be…'

Draco stood with his hands on his knees, also dripping. "You know…" he gasped, having not yet recovered from their mad dash for shelter. "It would really be…drama…king. Not queen." Not hearing a reply, he lifted his head to look at Ginny.

She looked as if someone had just hit her with a sack of bricks, and her eyes were fixed on something over his left shoulder. Spinning around to see what had affected her so strangely, Draco was met with the type of sign that one usually comes across near the entrance to a restaurant. Upon reading the curly script with which it was written, he felt panic threaten to overwhelm him.

_**Welcome to Madam Puddifoot's,**_

_**where love is always in the air!**_

_From candlelit dinners to delightful_

_picnic-style lunches, our staff is _

_dedicated to serving lovebirds _

_everywhere! Please wait to be seated. _

The color drained from his face for the second time that day, and Draco rounded on Ginny, mortified that she had brought them in here. He opened his mouth to voice his infuriated thoughts, but was interrupted by the sharp click of someone's shoes.

Ginny snapped out of her stupor and whipped her head around in the direction of the footsteps. She couldn't be caught in a place like this with Draco Malfoy. The rumors and scandals that were sure to arise would scar her for the rest of her days at Hogwarts. Perhaps even the rest of her life. Unable to come up with a better solution, she grabbed Draco's arm and dived behind a nearby potted plant, dragging him along behind her.

"Hey, what-" Draco's head collided solidly with the wall, cutting off his speech. Holding a hand to the injured area, he cursed under his breath before continuing. "You're one crazy bird you know that? First you bring us here, endangering both our reputations, and then you hold me hostage behind a plant! What's next, sky-diving off of the Astronomy Tower?!"

Ginny ignored him and peeked between the leaves of their hideout. "Shhh!" she whispered, pressing a finger to her lips. "Someone's coming right towards us."

Sure enough, the pink and white clad witch who Ginny had spotted earlier was rounding the corner in front of them. Humming to herself and carrying a stack of plates and silverware, she glanced around the room.

Her eyes fell on the twin puddles on the floor and narrowed quizzically. "Well I say," she murmured. "I coulda sworn I saw someone come in here. Why they'd wanna go back out in that rain is beyond-" She paused, noticing two pairs of feet sticking out from beneath her hibiscus plant. A knowing smile grew on her lips, and she chuckled to herself. 'Young love knows no boundaries,' she thought, and walked back to the kitchens, whistling as innocently as possible.

Ginny let out the breath she had been holding. "She's gone," she said, turning to face Draco. He had crawled up next to her to see through the foliage, and his face was only inches from hers as he checked the room to make sure the coast was clear. Blushing at their close proximity, Ginny backed away and sat with her shoulders leaning against the wall behind her.

"Well," Draco began, getting up from behind the plant. "Let's go then."

Ginny blinked at him. "Go? As in outside? What happened to 'help me Ginny, help me, I'm drowning'?" Draco scowled menacingly and crossed his arms.

"You know very well that I said nothing of the sort. Now come on before someone else shows up and we get stuck behind that blasted tree again. And I don't care if it's raining. We are getting out of here _now_."

Draco barely had time turn towards the door before a bright flash of light illuminated the room, followed by a deafening blast of thunder. He jumped backwards, landing on a shrieking Ginny and crashing to the ground, while managing to hit his head once more on the wall.

Although Draco was by no means overweight, having a seventeen-year-old guy land on her was no laughing matter. "Get off of me you oaf!" Ginny growled. "You're crushing my legs. Get off, get off, get off!"

Draco stood up, clutching the back of his head and grimacing in pain. "All right, all right, keep your hair on!" he growled. He could feel a lump rising under his fingers, and begrudged his decision to follow that crazy girl in the first place. Her Weasley luck must have rubbed off on him. The same luck that decided on her father's paycheck, that is.

Ginny propped herself up on her elbows and stretched her aching legs, assessing the damage. "Now what do you suggest?" she hissed, the throbbing in her knees preventing her from forgiving him. Brushing the dust off her skirt, she got to her feet as another rumble of thunder sounded outside.

"Why, 'ello my dears!"

Draco and Ginny spun around in the direction of the voice. The apron wearing witch was walking towards them, a wide smile on her face. "Are you ready to be seated?" she asked, glancing pointedly at the hibiscus and waggling her eyebrows at the two of them.

Draco, who didn't seem to notice this insinuation, sneered at her. "No, actually," he snapped. "We were just leaving."

He headed towards the door, but Ginny stood rooted to the spot. Her face had turned a very putrid shade of green. 'Did she think…did she actually think we were…' her mind reeled at the thought. 'Oh _god!_ If this gets out…'

Seizing her opportunity while Ginny was still in shock, the waitress grabbed her and Draco's arms and steered them forcefully away from the door. "We can' have ya going out in tha', now can we? I've got th' perfect spot for the two of ya, if you'll just follow me."

Having little choice in the matter, as their captor had quite a strong grip for her age, Ginny and Draco grimaced as they were dragged reluctantly into a cornucopia of pink tablecloths, flickering candlelight, and pairs of students holding hands over their plates.

"Here we are then," the waitress said, plopping them down in a booth in the corner of the room. Ginny glanced around nervously and felt a wave of relief wash over her when she realized that no one would be noticing her strange choice of company. The other couples were far too intent on permanently fusing their lips together to care about trivial matters, such as two rivals spending their Hogsmeade weekend together in the most romantic building in the village.

The waitress flipped open her notebook and pulled a pen from the wispy bun at the back of her head. "Now what can I get ya, my dears? Our special for th' day is Lover's Luncheon, which comes with-"

"I think we'll just get some tea for now," Ginny said hastily, glancing at Draco. He looked like he wanted to strangle someone, and his hands were curled into fists at his sides.

The waitress scribbled in her notebook and assured them that their order would arrive shortly, before hastening off to the kitchens, leaving the two humiliated students alone once again.

Draco uncurled his hands, but the murderous look continued to mar his face. "You just had to make all that noise, didn't you?" he said, glaring angrily across the table. "We could have escaped easily if it weren't for you and your ridiculous hysterics."

Ginny gaped at him. "_My_ hysterics? I seem to recall that _you_ were the one who had a total panic attack, all because of a bit of thunder."

"Well at least I didn't bring us into this revolting place," he retorted. His lips curled into a bitter sneer, and his voice took on a cynical tone. "I suppose you thought it'd be funny. Ruining my reputation by letting people see me in public with a Weasley, here of all places."

"Oh, that's rich," she scoffed. He sounded like he thought she had planned this from the beginning, as some sort of twisted revenge for the years of insults he had dedicated to her. "I never asked you to follow me here. You could still be sitting on top of that hill in the rain, for all I care."

"I wouldn't have followed you if you hadn't gone up there in the first place!" His voice had increased in volume by a considerable amount, and several couples had abandoned their activities to gaze curiously at the two of them. "None of this would have happened if you had just minded your own business."

Not noticing the attention that was now directed at them from all corners of the room, Ginny raised her voice as well. A bubble of anger and frustration expanded inside of her, and she was determined to have the last word. "I was _trying _to leave. You're the one who asked me to stay, remember?"

Draco started to protest, only to be interrupted by the arrival of their waitress, who had appeared so suddenly that he was sure she must have Apparated.

"Your tea, dears," she said kindly, setting a cup of steaming, amber liquid in front of each of them. "Sorry to cut short your little lover's spat." She winked and chuckled at the horrified expressions on their faces, before sauntering off to the next table.

Draco felt homicidal thoughts flood his brain once more, and he fought to keep himself from acting on them. Every occupant of the restaurant had stared at them blatantly upon hearing the waitress's words, and he glared menacingly around the room until each one of them had dropped their eyes back to their plates. Stirring his tea moodily, he looked at Ginny out of the corner of his eye. Red spots had flared up on her cheeks, and she was looking forlornly at her drink, as if she'd like nothing more than to drown herself in it.

His assumption wasn't far off, as Ginny was currently wishing she knew how to perform the killing curse on herself. A quick, hopefully painless death would be far more pleasant than remaining in this squashy booth, shrouded in candlelight and surrounded by staring eyes. Feeling uncomfortably warm, she unwrapped her scarf from around her neck and placed it on the seat next to her.

She peeked cautiously around the room and was glad to see that she and Draco were no longer the center of attention. The other couples had resumed their previous activities and seemed to have forgotten all about the strange pair sitting in the corner.

'Thank Merlin,' she thought to herself, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. 'Another minute of being stared at like that and I would've gone mad.'

Her discomfort having faded to a fraction of its original size, Ginny turned back to her tea and grabbed the sugar bowl, heaping generous spoonfuls into her cup.

Draco had watched her throughout this realization, sipping his tea absently and amusing himself with her rapidly changing facial expressions. He only spoke when she had stirred three teaspoons of sugar into her cup, and begun reaching out for another.

"Merlin, Weaslette!" he exclaimed, snatching the sugar bowl from her hands. "You'll give yourself a heart attack with all that. Really, sometimes I think that brother of yours is rubbing off on you."

Ginny scowled at him and attempted to retrieve the sugar bowl. "It's just sugar, Draco." He held it higher over his head as she leaned further across the table towards it. "And besides, since when do you care if I get a heart attack or not?"

"I don't," he replied, twisting in his seat to keep the sugar out of her reach. "I'd just rather not get stuck here with your dead body. People might ask questions."

Letting out a strangled cry of aggravation, Ginny gave up on using force to rescue her sugar bowl and slumped back into her seat. "Draco what-ever-your-middle-name-is Malfoy, I demand that you give me back my sugar this instant," she said strictly. She supposed he was right about Ron rubbing off on her. Or perhaps an addiction to sugar just ran in her family. Either way, she was not about to let him get away with pilfering it.

"Now Weaslette," he said, his lips curving into a sly smile. He lowered the sugar bowl to his tea cup and poured a thin stream of the sweet, white powder into it. "Let's not be selfish." He continued emptying the sugar into his tea, letting it pile up at the bottom of the cup. "You really should…" The bowl tipped further still. "…learn to share." The last granules of sugar tumbled into the tea cup, and Draco grinned mischievously, silently congratulating himself on his brilliance. "Oh, and it's Lucius, by the way. My middle name."

"You…" Ginny sputtered, too appalled at his audacity to form a complete sentence. "You…evil, scheming..." His grin turned into a laugh, as her face flushed with anger.

Thoroughly infuriated, she swung her leg under the table and felt it connect sharply with his shin. Her fit of violence only succeeded in making him laugh harder, and after she kicked him several more times, he was gasping for breath and nearly drowning in hilarity.

Pausing in her attempts to cause him as much pain as possible, Ginny realized that she had never seen Draco laugh before. A real laugh, that is. Not a day went by when he didn't snicker at the expense of another, or show off his trademark smirk to the rest of the world, but she doubted that anyone else could honestly say that they had seen a true laugh escape his lips. It sounded quite nice, really. All deep and bell-like… Like music and the tolling of church bells throughout the windy village.

Ginny's hand twitched as she had a sudden involuntary urge to smack herself on the forehead. This was not normal. She shouldn't have to be constantly reminding herself that he was a self-centered git. It should just come naturally, always ready to remind her why she and the other Gryffindors hated him so much. A simple laugh couldn't erase years of animosity, even if it was nice to listen to. Maybe. Somewhat.

She put these troubling thoughts out of her mind and shot a glance at Draco, who was still unable to contain his mirth. Spotting the perfect way to even the score after his antics with the sugar bowl, she grinned and lunged for his teacup.

Draco snapped out of his merriment almost immediately. "Hey!" he shouted, staring at the empty space where his excessively-sugared tea had been sitting.

"Ha!" Ginny exclaimed, laughing at his surprised expression and lifting the cup to her lips. "I guess I get the sugar after all." She sipped the syrupy tea and had to suppress the urge to gag. Even she couldn't handle something this sweet, but she wasn't going to let that get in the way of her revenge.

It crossed her mind that she was drinking something that had touched Draco's lips, a thought that resulted in a sensation similar to that of having eaten dozens of Peppermint Toads. Not that she would know what that felt like, of course. It was more Ron's area of expertise. She supposed this reaction was merely the outcome of years of hostility, but a small part of her mind thought otherwise.

'_You recognize this feeling_,' it whispered. '_It's the same one you had around Harry for all those years_.'

Ginny shook her head to try and silence the voice. 'No,' she thought firmly. 'No, I couldn't possibly be feeling…attracted to him. We've been through this before, and it could never happen, remember?'

'_That's because you thought he was a Death Eater,_' the traitorous part of her brain replied. '_He's turned spy for our side, now._"

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat at this notion, not wanting to believe that the Slytherin sitting in front of her could elicit these kinds of feelings from her. Lost in her troublesome thoughts, she didn't even notice that the object of her confusion was speaking.

"…all the tea, and I'm left with nothing." Ginny stared blankly at a spot on the wall behind him, completely oblivious to his ranting. "I mean really, Weaslette, you could have just asked nicely, but _no_. You just _had _to resort to force. Weaslette? Are you even listening to me?"

Ginny blinked in disorientation and jerked her chin off of her palm, where it had been resting for the past few minutes. "What? No. I mean yes. Uh huh," she stuttered, forcing herself back into reality.

Draco sighed and leaned back into his seat, the booth's magenta cushions compressing behind his back. Being ignored was something he never could stand, and he resented the fact that she had missed his little speech. What was the point in telling someone off if they didn't even hear you doing it?

"Very convincing and all," he drawled, keeping his eyes fixed on her face. "But I'm sure whatever you were thinking about was far more interesting than anything I have to say." She glanced down at her stolen teacup, and he raised his eyebrows as a pink flush crawled slowly up from her collar.

His assumption had hit closer to home than she felt comfortable with, especially as he was the person that her thoughts had been revolving around. She swallowed hard to remove the nervous lump in her throat and forced herself to return his stare.

"What I think about is none of your business, Malfoy," she retorted, trying to appear collected and in control, but ending up sounding rather shrill. "And anything that goes through my mind will always be more interesting than whatever comes out of your abnormally large m-"

Despite her Gryffindor courage and fierce desire to not back down in front of him, Ginny had found herself unable to continue looking into his seemingly bottomless grey eyes and had let her gaze drift over his shoulder, at something that jarred her voice to a halt. An old-fashioned grandfather's clock stood behind their booth, its pendulum swinging steadily and its arms signaling that it was a full fifteen minutes past the time that she had promised to meet her friends back at Honeydukes.

She stared at the clock in distress, not able to believe that she had neglected to remember her promise. Snapping out of her shocked daze, she grabbed her bag and began rummaging for some coins to pay for her tea.

Draco glanced behind him and, seeing nothing of great interest, turned around to inquire about her strange behavior, only to find that she had tossed a few Sickles on the table and was already halfway to the door, leaving him to sit alone among the flickering candles and kissing couples.

oooo

Ginny's shoes sloshed through the muddy puddles that dotted the streets of Hogsmeade, and the heavy, humid air filled her nose with the musky fragrance of freshly rained on earth. The rolling thunder of earlier that day had quieted, and the only falling water was the large drops that had settled on the leaves of trees and would occasionally slide off onto the cobblestones.

Dodging several of these wet missiles, Ginny walked hurriedly through the crowded street towards Honeydukes. It would be a miracle if the others were still waiting for her. They had probably gone back to the castle as soon as the rain had cleared up. Regrettably, she had no idea when this had happened, as she had been far too intent on making it out of Madam Puddifoot's with her reputation intact to pay attention to the weather.

She squeezed herself through a knot of witches babbling excitedly about something they had bought, and broke into a jog. It might be for the best if Harry, Ron and Hermione had left without her, as it would serve to help her avoid awkward questions, but that didn't put a damper on her desperation to make it back to Honeydukes on time. Or at least as on time as it was possible to be when one was already over twenty minutes late.

Her foot slipped in a puddle of dirty water, and she just barely managed to keep herself from sprawling down onto the sidewalk. Grabbing a lamppost for balance, she groaned as she looked down at her mud-splattered robes.

She was definitely going to have to do some explaining if she ever made it back to Honeydukes in one piece.

Shaking herself off as best she could, Ginny sighed raggedly and sunk down onto one of the metal benches lining the streets. There really was no point in going back to Honeydukes. It would only result in more uncomfortable conversations and embarrassing situations, both of which she had endured enough of for one day.

"Why does everything have to happen to me?" she asked herself quietly. The stress of the past few days was finally catching up to her, and she ran her hands over her forehead as if trying to ward off a massive headache. Finding Malfoy crying in a bathroom, witnessing his decision to switch sides, escaping Harry's constant advances…it was all too much for her.

"Well it might have something to do with the fact that you're alive. You could be dead, and then nothing would happen."

Ginny jolted and lifted her head out of her hands, finding herself face to face with a dreamy-looking blonde girl. "Oh. Hello Luna," she said. Her voice sounded tired and worn even to her own ears, and she scooted over on the bench to allow the odd girl room to sit.

"Hello," Luna replied, settling herself next to her classmate. "Your friends were looking for you, you know. I think Ron might have been attacked by a Queasy-Breathed Skurl. He seemed rather sick."

Ginny felt her lips curve upwards into a smile. "I'm sure he just ate too much candy, that's all," she said, struggling to keep her voice level. Despite her unusual beliefs, Luna could always make Ginny feel more cheerful with her peculiar ways. Fighting in the Department of Mysteries had brought them closer together, so that she no longer thought of the blonde Ravenclaw as someone to be avoided.

Luna nodded at Ginny's rebuttal, her faraway eyes growing thoughtful. "Yes, that could be true. I suppose there could have been Jarklins hiding in the fudge… They often infect sugary foods, and anyone who accidentally ingests them suffers from— Oh! Here they are now."

Sure enough, the three sixth years had just appeared on the street corner and were walking hastily towards the bench where Ginny was sitting. When they arrived in front of her, she could see what Luna had meant about Ron and the Queasy-Breathed Skurl. His face had turned an odd shade of grey, and he was clutching his stomach with both hands, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth hanging open.

Hermione was the first to speak. "Ginny where have you been?" she wailed, throwing her hands up into the air. "We've been waiting for you for nearly half an hour." She glanced down and took in Ginny's muddied state. "And what in Merlin's name happened to your robes?"

"I slipped in a puddle on my way to Honeydukes," said Ginny, hopping off the bench. "But it's no big deal. I'll just wash off when we get back to the castle. Which we really should be doing…" She tried to inch around Hermione, but was stopped when the older girl threw an arm out in front of her.

Hermione's face took on a daunting resemblance to Professor McGonagall's. "Not so fast, young lady. You still haven't told us where you've been all this time. Harry said that you'd gone to buy quills, but the student supply shop is on the other side of town."

Relinquishing her attempt to escape further questioning, Ginny tried to look innocent as she told yet another quick lie, something that was rapidly becoming a habit of hers. "I stopped at the Post Office to send a letter to my mum," she blurted out. "What with all the rain, I ended up staying there for most of the time. I was on my way back to Honeydukes when I ran into Luna."

Raising her eyebrows, Hermione opened her mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by a loud groan from Ron.

He had sunk down next to the bench and was repeatedly banging his head against the lamppost, moaning in what sounded like pure agony. Harry, who had knelt down beside him, got to his feet and turned to Ginny.

"He took Hermione's challenge a little too seriously," he said quietly, not wanting Ron to hear them talking about him. "He would have made it all the way too, if it weren't for the Peppermint Toads. I think all the hopping was just too much for him."

Ginny suppressed a laugh at the look of mixed pity and revulsion on Hermione's face. "I'm sure he'll survive," she said. "Let's just get him back to Hogwarts before we get a repeat of the slug incident."

A squeamish look crossed Harry's face, but he managed to drag Ron to his feet and swing one of the sickly redhead's arms over his shoulder. Ginny supported his other side, and with Hermione and Luna trailing behind, the five friends started off on the path leading to their school.

oooo

Harry and Ginny deposited Ron in the Great Hall, and stood alongside him among the many students that were milling about the room, showing off their new purchases. Luna had bid them goodbye (and good luck getting rid of the Jarklins), and set off for her common room, while Hermione had settled herself at the Gryffindor table, her nose buried in A Complete Guide to Advanced Arithmancy.

"I reckon he'll be alright in a couple of hours," said Harry, nodding at Ron. "There's no point in taking him to the Hospital Wing. It'll only embarrass him."

Ginny collapsed in the chair next to Hermione and rubbed her sore shoulder. "He could use some of Madam Pomfrey's weight loss draught, though," she said bitterly. "My arm will never be the same again after carrying that oaf around!" She thought she saw Hermione's lips twitch into a grin at her complaints, but on closer inspection, she seemed to be thoroughly involved in her book.

Giving her arm one last squeeze, Ginny unconsciously surveyed the crowd of students still passing through the huge oak doors of the Great Hall. Her eyes landed on the person she had been watching for, and it took her several seconds before she realized that she was ogling a very blonde Slytherin.

He must have sensed her eyes on him, because he turned his attention away from his friends to glance at the Gryffindor table. His eyes met hers and as he looked at her, a curious expression crossed his face. Ginny furrowed her brow in confusion and glanced down at herself to see what had caught his interest, feeling color rise in her cheeks as she remembered her mud-spattered clothes.

She glanced up to look back at Malfoy, but found that he had already left the Great Hall with his fellow Slytherins. Her eyes swept over her friends and she noticed that Hermione had abandoned her reading, and was instead regarding Ginny with a suspicious look on her face. She hoped it didn't have anything to do with her flushed cheeks or who she had been staring at from across the hall.

Letting out what she hoped would be her last sigh for the day, she lifted herself gingerly out of her chair. "I'm going to head back to the common room," she said, avoiding Hermione's unnerving stare. "Make sure Ron doesn't eat any more candy."

With that, she spun around and dashed out of the Great Hall before anyone could argue, losing herself in the crowd of students.

When Ginny arrived at the entrance to Gryffindor tower, she blurted out the password and, ignoring the Fat Lady's remarks on her bedraggled appearance, dived gratefully into the safety and relative quiet of the common room. She trekked up to her dormitory and grabbed her comfiest set of robes and one of her Weasley sweaters, dumping them on the bathroom counter before running herself a hot shower.

Her robes peeled away from her skin with some difficulty due to the drying mud coating them, and she realized with a groan that she had forgotten her scarf in Madam Puddifoot's. It was probably still sitting on the booth for all she knew, as it was highly unlikely that she'd ever see it again.

Darn that Malfoy for distracting her.

Dropping the rest of her soiled clothes in a pile on the floor, she stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain around her. Hot droplets rolled down her face, and she wished that she could wash away her troubles as easily as the warm cascades of water were washing away the dirt on her skin.


	5. A Breach of the Slytherin Code

The Choices We Make

Chapter 5: A Breach of the Slytherin Code

**Disclaimer: **I very definitely do not own Harry Potter. (Even if it may have been on my Christmas list for the past few years…)

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone who reviewed! –Gigantic hugs all around- Loved hearing from you guys! And Happy New School Year to everyone… As if, hehe.

And now, on to the chapter!

* * *

Draco, despite his usual ability to control his emotions, felt positively anxious as he ventured further down the roughly cut stone stairs leading deep into the castle dungeons. 

Classes had resumed their tedious march, and he had made sure to take his time packing up his cauldron and ingredients in Potions earlier that day. Once the rest of the sixth years had collected their things and exited the classroom, the buzz of their voices growing quieter as they climbed out of the damp underbelly of the castle, he had presented Dumbledore's note to his professor.

When Snape had informed him that he was to come directly back to the dungeons after dinner, Draco hadn't thought much of it. Unlike most of his classmates, he wasn't afraid of the Head of Slytherin House any more than he was afraid of his own shadow.

Even if he often found himself wishing the greasy-haired professor would bathe once in awhile, for his students' sake, if not for his own.

But as the day wore on, he had begun to feel an unfamiliar sensation welling up in his throat, which grew larger and more menacing with each passing hour. He realized that he had absolutely no idea what would be expected of him now that he had officially joined "the good guys", and began to feel like he had signed up for more than he would be able to handle. He sat through History of Magic, fervently scribbling down a timeline of Goblin civilization, only to realize at the end of class that he had left whole centuries blank, while his mind detached itself from his quill and dwelled upon the approaching meeting. His Arithmancy notes suffered the same fate, and by the time he made it to his last class, his head was spinning with so many panicked bursts of thought that the hedgehog he was meant to be transfiguring ended up in pieces all over Professor McGonagall's classroom.

Even though he had received zero marks for the day (he was sure McGonagall would have given him a score in the negatives if she could), his current state of mind refused to let something as insignificant as schoolwork interfere with his situation. And this attitude was another mysterious occurrence in itself.

Although he would rather be eaten alive by the Giant Squid than willingly put himself in the same category as, say, a certain house elf-loving Mudblood, doing well in his classes had always been a top priority. He _was_ a Malfoy, after all, despite recent developments in his position in the war. Letting his grades slip was not something his pride usually allowed.

Of course, neither was fraternizing with Gryffindors. Especially those that also happened to be Weasleys.

Draco Malfoy was not the kind of person to feel grateful towards anybody, but ever since his emotional meltdown in the bathroom, he had found himself quite appreciative of the youngest of the copper-headed clowns.

Hence the scarf that was currently residing in his book bag.

He wasn't completely sure why he had picked it up in the first place. At the time, it had just seemed irrational to leave it sitting on the booth for someone else to find, the red and gold strands of yarn clashing horribly with the magenta cushions. He knew very well that this was a weak explanation, as he really couldn't care less about whether or not that idiotic café was color coordinated, but it was the best he could come up with without entertaining several very frightening notions.

And so, the scarf had remained with him for no rational reason. Unfortunately, it had brought with it an assortment of unwanted thoughts about its owner.

He had never before regarded her with anything less than contempt and abhorrence, speaking only to remind her of his superiority. She hardly even registered in his mind as a Pureblood, and what with the way her family lived who could blame him? The Weasleys had been marked as blood traitors for years, as clearly as Potter was marked as The-Boy-Who-Sodding-Lived.

Nevertheless, he caught himself thinking about her more often than not, a realization that troubled him constantly. He could hardly make it through the first ten minutes of each class without letting his mind wander away from whatever incantations or theories he was supposed to be learning, and settle on the annoyingly persistent, sugar-crazed girl. It was pathetic, really. He had gone from being perfectly in control of every aspect of his life, to feeling like he was an amateur on skis, tumbling haphazardly down a snow-covered slope.

If there was one thing he hated, it was being powerless.

He sighed and hesitated in front of the door to Snape's office, running his fingers through his hair. It would be impossible to delay going inside much longer without a good excuse, and he had already wasted enough time at dinner, eating his meal as slowly as was humanly possible. Lowering his hand to the doorknob, he pushed his anxiety to the back of his mind and stepped inside.

The interior of the Potions Master's office hadn't changed much from the many times he had been called there for prefect's duties, although several of the eerie-looking jars lining the shelves had been emptied, no doubt for use in some of the more unpleasant concoctions that Snape stirred up. The stone walls were still as dirty as ever, permeating the air with a moldy smell that reminded him of the time Goyle had over-watered his Herbology project and left it to sit overnight. A couple of spindly chairs—which he would rather not come in contact with, as they looked ready to collapse at any second—were placed side-by-side in front of an equally spindly-looking desk, currently occupied by a very irritated potions professor.

"You're late," he said, in the same emotionless voice that struck fear in the hearts of many of his students.

As years of favoritism had rendered Draco immune to such tactics, there wasn't a hint of terror behind his voice when he spoke. "Sorry, Professor," he answered politely. He knew how to handle Snape, and making excuses would only incense him further. Things were far more likely to end well if you kept your speech to a minimum.

Snape nodded curtly and, to Draco's dismay, gestured to one of the chairs in front of him. "Dumbledore has informed me of your decision," he said. "I trust he has already made sure you know what you're getting yourself into, so I won't waste time on that."

Draco lowered himself gingerly into the chair, relieved to find that it was much sturdier than it looked. "Yes sir," he began. "But, what _will_ we be doing here?"

He doubted that he had been sent to see Snape just because he was the Head of Slytherin House. There was obviously another reason for this arrangement.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, as we are both spies it would be sensible to collaborate in a situation such as this."

It was a long moment before these words were able to penetrate Draco's mind. When they did, they also managed to push everything he had ever believed about his potions professor out of their way, only leaving room for one mind-boggling fact that glowed like a flashing neon sign inside his head.

"_You're _a spy?" he asked incredulously, his eyes widening in astonishment. This certainly wasn't what he had been expecting. He had thought he'd be learning some sort of defensive magic or something, not partnering up with his professor.

"Fortunately for you, yes. I am a spy," Snape informed him.

Draco felt his head throb as he tried to process this development. "But— How did you keep this from getting out?" he questioned. "I mean… Voldemort!"

"As skilled as the Dark Lord is in Legilimency, I am also quite an accomplished Occlumens," Snape said, and surprisingly, there wasn't an iota of immodesty in his voice. "But that is not important. What's important is what we are going to do to postpone an attack on the school."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Postpone? Shouldn't we be trying to prevent one altogether?"

"If that were an option," Snape said bitterly. "The Dark Lord's plans are set in stone. Anything more drastic than simply stalling his attack will raise more suspicions than we are prepared to deal with."

A thought struck Draco, and he suddenly remembered the letter he had received and the cruel threats that had been woven into it.

"But I can't tell Him my plan's not working!" he replied, his voice rising several octaves in panic. "My father sent a letter and—"

Snape cut him off before he could finish. "I know what Lucius wrote, and you needn't fear for your mother's life. You are going to tell the Dark Lord that your plan is coming along perfectly. You just need a little more time to complete it."

Lying to the one of the most talented Legilimens ever to attempt taking over the wizarding world hadn't seemed like a realistic option to Draco. He had seen what happened to people who walked down that path, and the images still haunted him late at night, forcing his eyes to remain open and stare blankly at the cracks on the ceiling of the Slytherin dormitory. He could almost draw a map of them from memory.

As if Snape could read his student's mind (a concept that could technically be true) he answered Draco's unspoken question. "I will, of course, be confirming your report, as He will see no need to search your mind if He believes I am being truthful," the Potions Master said simply. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt for you to have some training in Occlumency, however." A grimace crossed his face at these words, as if he were remembering an unpleasant experience.

"Will you be teaching me, then?" Draco asked, wondering what Snape had against giving lessons in Occlumency. Perhaps he'd been forced to deal with an incompetent student somewhere along the line…

"I will," Snape said, nodding. "Let us hope you will prove more capable than some of my past…pupils." He spat the last word off his tongue as if it were a mouthful of spoiled milk.

'Definitely holding a grudge,' Draco thought amusedly, repressing a smirk while his professor forced his features into a more pleasant arrangement.

Which wasn't much of an improvement, considering that he had never quite looked agreeable to begin with.

Draco watched as Snape shook his head to banish whatever loathsome thoughts he had been pondering and cleared his throat. "You will also have to continue to attend any meetings the Dark Lord calls," he said, all traces of his previous lapse in control gone from his voice. "My position is such that I won't be able to accompany you on all of these expeditions, so becoming proficient at closing your mind should be your main concern."

"Yes, Professor," Draco replied steadily, although walking into a Death Eater meeting with absolutely no back-up wasn't something he was looking forward to.

"Very well," Snape said shortly. "I will inform you of the times for our next meeting during class tomorrow. You are dismissed." He turned to a stack of parchment on his desk and began shuffling through it, and Draco remembered vaguely that he had quite a lot of homework to finish before going to bed.

Sighing dejectedly, as at the moment he would have liked nothing more than to sink into peaceful unconsciousness behind the curtains of his four-poster, he stood and started towards the door. No matter how appealing his soft pillows and cozy emerald comforter sounded, he knew that the library was his only option if he wanted to lessen the amount of work that was bearing down on him.

"And Mr. Malfoy?" Draco paused and looked back over his shoulder at Snape, who had glanced up from his work. "Do _try _to stay out of trouble," he drawled, fixing him with a firm stare.

Draco grinned. He knew that his Head of House would never admit it, but he did care about his students. He just had…well, _unusual_ ways of showing it.

"Yes, Professor," Draco repeated once again, before pushing the door open and stepping out into the corridor, not sure whether to feel relieved, or even more anxious than before.

oooo

Ginny felt her eyelids droop to half-mast for what had to be the hundredth time that day. She flipped a page of the weighty library book spread out in front of her and tried miserably to decipher the author's words, succeeding only in sinking farther into the black abyss of boredom that she had been prey to since classes had begun that morning. Her thoughts formed slowly, and she massaged her temples as a dull ache started to pound behind her eyes.

Ginny sighed.

The past few days had seemed like something out of a different person's life. She had almost let herself forget about the essays and spells that took up every bit of her precious free time. Now that the weekend was over, she felt like she was being thrust back into her own monotonous existence, completely devoid of mystery or adventure. Even a little angst would have been a welcome divergence from the endless hours of droning professors and late-night study sessions.

She pushed aside the many rolls of parchment and notes that had spread out over the table she had settled at in the back of the library, and dragged her half finished Transfigurations essay towards her. Dipping her quill in a pot of ink, she positioned her hand over the page and turned back to the book she had been puzzling over.

'_The decision to attempt a human transfiguration is an imperative one that should not be undervalued,' _she read. '_There are copious liabilities involved with amending the exterior of an individual, many of which can result in permanent impairment to the subject, and may additionally prove terminal.' _

Ginny felt her heart sink down to her toes. Copious? Impairment? She hadn't a clue what half of those words had meant, a fact that didn't do much for her already sulky mood. She took her hand off of the scroll of parchment containing her unfinished essay and let it spring into a neat coil, blots of ink where her quill had rested showing through the paper. Stretching her arms above her head, she shook her hair out of her face and yawned widely.

What she wouldn't give for a warm bed and a couple of pillows. Heck, she'd even settle for a sleeping bag on the library's floor.

Ginny rubbed her eyes in a vain attempt to rid them of their sleepy sting and pulled a stack of notes out from under several textbooks. Her eyes skimmed the pages, stopping occasionally when she came across a promising fact or chart, but her mind drifted slowly away from this soporific task and onto more intriguing matters.

She found herself reliving the events of the weekend in her head, shadows of her formerly concentrated emotions rushing back to her. It was as if there was a picture theater inside her head, and all she had to do was press play to conjure up flashes of her past. An image of her reading a letter on the bathroom floor shimmered in her mind, and she watched as her expression changed from that of curiosity, to a mask of shocked horror. Then she was grinning idiotically at Harry, a crimson lollipop clutched in her hand, as cheerful students milled around them. A door was swinging open in front of her, and an indescribable sensation flooded her mind as she saw herself walk unknowingly into the boys' lavatory.

She had become so preoccupied with this slide-show of her life, that she hardly noticed the steady dripping of ink from her quill that was gathering in a puddle on top of her notes, and was only shaken out of her thoughts when she heard someone sit down in the chair next to hers.

Glancing up from the notes she had been staring at blankly, she was met with a pair of grey eyes. "Oh," she sighed. "It's you."

"Sorry to disappoint," Draco replied dryly. "I'm sure you would rather I was your precious Potter."

"No, I don't wish you were Harry," she told him, emphasizing her friend's proper name. "And you didn't disappoint, either. I'm just not in the liveliest of moods right now."

That was _definitely_ an understatement. The heavy workload that accompanied fifth year was not being kind to her, or her sleeping habits. Her reflection in the bathroom mirror that morning had shown her the light-purple marks below her eyes, sticking out prominently against her sallow skin, and even her freckles had seemed faded. If she had believed in Professor Trelawney's loony teachings, she would have sworn her aura was oozing exhaustion into the air as they spoke.

"I can see that, Weaslette," Draco responded, his lip curling as he let his eyes scan the heaps of parchment and textbooks littering her table.

Ginny set down her quill and scowled at him. "If you're only here to irritate me I suggest you leave. In case you haven't noticed, I have a lot of work to do."

"Well, I won't waste time then," he said briskly, his voice taking on a more serious tone than the sarcastic banter he had previously been engaged in. "I just thought you'd like to know that I talked to Snape today."

Ginny stared at him for a minute, a questioning look across her face.

"Why would I care that you…_Oh!_" she gasped, as sudden realization flooded her mind. She had completely forgotten about the note Dumbledore had written in his office. Merlin, that felt like so long ago. "What did you talk about?"

"Well, we decided that black wasn't really his color. He debated about going into the blues and greens, but I managed to convince him that pink was more—"

"Oh, _very _witty," Ginny interrupted, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. "Must you make light of everything?"

His solemn pretense faded into a too familiar smirk. "Of course not," he contradicted. "It's just that I couldn't help myself when you were sitting there looking so serious."

"Maybe that's because I was serious!" she exclaimed, earning a deathly glare from Madam Pince, who had taken to patrolling the aisles of the library for rule breakers. She looked seconds away from tossing the both of them out into the corridor. Lowering her voice considerably, Ginny continued. "If you don't tell me what's going on, I will hunt you down and when I do, there will be nowhere for you to run," she whispered threateningly.

Hmph. As if he could ever escape a Weasley with a mission.

"You know, you really need to learn that violence is not the key," Draco remarked. Still, he inched his chair out of reach of her legs. Apparently, the pain she had inflicted when he had stolen her tea in Madam Puddifoot's was still sharp in his mind, even if he had found it rather hilarious at the time.

Ginny opened her mouth, intent on spouting more threats in his general direction, but he cut her off.

"And I was going to tell you what went on eventually," he interrupted. "Have some patience, why don't you."

Ginny let out an indignant huff, but decided grudgingly that arguing would only get her further from her goal. "Fine," she growled, fighting to keep her voice calm. "I'm being patient."

"That's more like it," he said condescendingly, as Ginny's cheeks flared red with the effort of keeping herself from trying to strangle the information out of him. "Now, where were we again?"

"You were going to tell me what happened in your meeting with Professor Snape," she forced through clenched teeth. He had some nerve, pretending to have forgotten the reason for their entire conversation!

If you could even call it a conversation. It was more of just another opportunity for him to infuriate her.

"Ah, yes," he said, a false look of remembrance on his face. "Good old Snape. Well, according to him, the only thing we can do is tell Voldemort that things are going just swimmingly." Ginny's heart leapt nervously at his words, filled with cold promises of danger and possible death. "Anything else would just make him suspicious and whatnot. Oh, and we'll also have to—"

He broke off abruptly, glancing at the worried look on her face. If she hadn't been so distracted by the anxious flutters in her chest, Ginny might have noticed the suspiciously sudden halt in his speech.

"And that's pretty much it," Draco finished, rather lamely in her opinion.

Despite her recent annoyance, Ginny felt concern creep into her mind. "What do you mean 'that's it'?" she asked him, a frail tremor lacing her voice. "You're talking about lying to Voldemort like it's nothing."

"It's not like I'll be on my own," he said defensively. Officially, this was a lie, but his face showed no signs of dishonesty. "I said 'we', didn't I? Snape'll be backing up everything I say."

Ginny bit her lip, still not convinced.

"But Voldemort's bound to realize what's going on eventually," she reasoned. "He's going to expect results if you tell him that the plan is working, and when he doesn't get them…What then?"

"Look," Draco said impatiently, ignoring her query. "I don't have time to argue about this. Believe it or not, I have just as much sodding homework as you do, and I don't fancy staying up all night to finish it."

He stood up from his chair and turned to stalk off in the direction he had come, pausing to look back at her from over his shoulder.

"Almost forgot," he muttered, reaching into his bag and pulling out a long piece of red and gold cloth. He held it out to her wordlessly, and Ginny stared at it in disbelief.

"My scarf!" she said, obvious surprise in her voice.

"You left it on the seat next to you," he explained. Ginny made no move to take it from him, only stared with a curious expression across her face. "Well? Take it back, already. I'm not going to stand here all night."

She reached out her hand and grasped the soft fabric as he held it, their fingers brushing against each other for such a fleeting moment that she would have thought she had imagined it if it weren't for the warm tingles that were shooting up her arm. Goosebumps rose on her pale flesh, and she withdrew her hand quickly, the scarf still clutched between her fingers.

Draco took an involuntary step backwards. "Right. Well, I'll see you later then," he said quickly, not meeting her eyes.

She nodded, the sudden fuzziness in her brain preventing her from speaking, and watched as he turned and disappeared around the corner of the aisle. Pulling unconsciously at the threads in her scarf, she let out a ragged breath of air.

It confused her to no end how he could be irritating the life out of her one minute, and making shivers of electricity pulse through her veins at the next. Was this normal Malfoy behavior? Somehow, she doubted that doing favors for Gryffindors was accepted in the Slytherin society. She had always imagined that they had some sort of Slytherin Code of Evil, filled with strict rules forbidding things like kindness, or generosity, or returning lost items to their rightful owners. If there was indeed such a thing, he was definitely making several serious infringements.

She scoffed bitterly. 'Well,' she thought to herself. 'It's not like you've been acting much like you're expected to either.'

It was true that many of her recent actions would have caused a significantly large upheaval if they were ever revealed to the public, particularly that of Gryffindor House. Rivalry and hatred ran so deep between the two houses that it would be close to impossible to justify what she had done. Malfoy had spent the majority of his six years at Hogwarts making life miserable for anyone who happened to get in his way, and it didn't help that his favorite targets were the people she cared about most.

Ginny felt guilt weigh her down suddenly like a lead blanket, wrapping around her shoulders and threatening to crush her. She wondered if she was being selfish, associating with the enemy while her friends fell by the wayside. It couldn't possibly be fair to go behind their backs like this after everything he had done to them.

But perhaps none of that mattered now. All the name-calling and hexing seemed to dim in comparison to the inescapable turmoil that was drawing nearer every day, and would soon envelop the entire wizarding world. There were far bigger things going on than inter-house rivalry and petty grudges.

That being decided, Ginny concluded that there was really only one rational solution to her dilemma. She would just have to put aside everything she had ever believed about Draco Malfoy, forgetting the last five years and all that had occurred because of them. They were on the same side now, and no matter how infuriating he could be, he was technically one of the good guys. She needn't feel guilty about talking to one of those.

Getting tingly feelings for him, however…She might want to consider feeling guilty about that.

**A/N:** Please **Review**…


	6. Jealousy for Breakfast?

The Choices We Make

Chapter 6: Jealousy for Breakfast?

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter, blablabla… I'm sure you all know that by now!

**A/N:** Hehe…I know this took forever, but please don't hurt me :runs away from angry mob: I've only been able to write on the weekends because of my enormous amount of homework! I think I know how Ginny feels now… So I'm afraid the chapters will be coming more slowly now than they did during the summer, but unfortunately there's nothing I can do about that. Anyway, once again I had to split one chapter into two because it got too long! So this was actually done a while ago, I just didn't know it was its own chappie yet.

Oh and just a heads up: Draco is the Slytherin Quidditch Captain in my fic. I know that's not how it was in HBP, but this is my story and I make the rules.

And lastly, a million hugs and kisses to my reviewers! Love ya!

Enjoy!

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The next day, Ginny awoke reluctantly to the shrill screams of her alarm clock. Squeezing her eyes shut to shield them from the piercing beams of sunlight escaping from behind her curtains, she reached out to silence the noisy contraption. 

After several attempts (during which she managed to bruise her knuckles quite painfully against her bedside table), her fingers found the right buttons and silence greeted her grateful ears. Pulling her arm back under the warm covers, she buried herself face-first into her pillow and groaned miserably.

It had taken her late into the night to finish her paper for Professor McGonagall, and even so, she was sure it would be deemed a weak excuse for an essay. If she kept up at this rate, she would end up with less O.W.L.s than Fred and George, a notion her mother had nagged her about on countless occasions.

Turning her head onto its side and spitting out a mouthful of tangled red hair, Ginny seriously considered staying in bed. Missing a few classes seemed like a small price to pay for a day of pure, uninterrupted rest and an opportunity to catch up on her lost sleep. She was even willing to deal with the double homework that would be lying in wait, ready to smother her as soon as she reentered the waking world.

Yes, slipping back into a peaceful doze beneath her downy comforter was definitely worth all that. She probably would have gone ahead with it, too, if it weren't for the Quidditch game.

Against Slytherin.

_Today._

Sighing in defeat, Ginny dragged her head off of her pillow and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her movements were slow and lethargic, which admittedly was quite typical of her on any given morning, but today's drowsiness seemed to run deeper. She felt as if her blood had curdled overnight, leaving it thick and syrupy inside her veins, and her eyelids seemed to be weighed down with blocks of concrete.

Getting weakly to her feet, she managed to peel away the heavy curtains shielding the window beside her bed. Thin beams of light were poking through clouds that were neither light enough to allow a glare from the sun, nor heavy enough to suggest rain. Her eyes roved over to survey the Forbidden Forest, where the dense foliage was twitching gently in an almost non-existent breeze.

All in all, it was the epitome of perfect Quidditch conditions.

Cheered by this stroke of good fortune, Ginny felt some of her usual perky attitude return from its seemingly endless absence. Another sigh blew past her lips, but it was a contented sigh, and the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile as she drew the curtains closed.

She opened one of the drawers in her dresser and started sifting through a pile of clothes for something to change into, pausing when she glimpsed a flash of Gryffindor colors out of the corner of her eye.

Her scarf lay sprawled on top of the dresser, where she had left it last night in her hurry to get into bed. It suddenly occurred to her, though she was stunned that it had taken her so long to realize, that she would be playing against Malfoy in the upcoming match.

She didn't know why it mattered, really, but for some inexplicable reason she felt strangely disoriented. Having already accepted the idea of Draco Malfoy as an ally (no matter how bizarre a concept it may be), she was sure it would feel odd to be on opposite sides once again. While the two of them were certainly not friends, and probably never would be, they had…something. There really were no words that fit.

'Mental disorders' came rather close, though.

Ginny snorted to herself. 'That would definitely explain a lot,' she mused, pulling a skirt and matching blouse out of her drawer and starting to dress. She almost wished insanity _was_ the reason for her recent behavior. At least then she would have an excuse.

Finishing the last button on her shirt, she grabbed a brush and began working the knots out of her hair. When it had been restored to its usual silky state, falling loosely around her face, Ginny stuffed her arms through the sleeves of her robes and left the dormitory.

She caught a glimpse of the Quidditch pitch through a window as she walked down to breakfast, and felt excitement bubble up inside of her, despite any misgivings she had about the match against Slytherin. There was really no point in letting them put a damper on her spirits in the first place, let alone linger in the depths of her mind, leaving nothing but disquiet and apprehension in their wake.

Strolling into the Great Hall, Ginny filled her lungs with the inviting smells and made her way to the Gryffindor table.

"Morning all," she chirped, settling herself next to Harry and Ron, who had been conversing energetically over forgotten bowls of cereal.

"Good morning, Ginny." Hermione smiled at her from across the table. "Thank Merlin you're here. These two Quidditch addicts have been putting me to sleep with all their talk about tactics and touchdowns and whatnot."

"Goals, 'Mione, not touchdowns," Ginny corrected gently, while choosing an orange from the basket in the middle of the table.

Hermione waved her hand impatiently. "Goals, touchdowns, either way it's far too uncivilized for my liking."

"Oh, really?" Ginny said, an impish grin appearing on her face. "I seem to recall that there are some aspects of Quidditch that are _very _much to your liking. For instance, the Gryffindor Keep—"

She was interrupted by a harsh hacking sound as Hermione promptly choked on a bite of toast, glaring furiously at Ginny between coughs.

The youngest Weasley suppressed a laugh with difficulty as she watched her friend's face flush scarlet. She knew it was wicked of her to bring up such a topic in front of Ron, but as he and Harry were still deeply involved in their conversation, she reckoned it was a chance worth taking. Besides, she hadn't been lying when she told Hermione that the two of them were perfect for each other. They were living proof that opposites did, indeed, attract.

Now if they could only get past the secret crush stage and onto more interesting encounters.

Resurfacing from her fit of coughing, Hermione opened her mouth to speak, and Ginny bit her lip in anticipation of her wrath. She wasn't exactly worried, as she knew the bushy-haired girl wouldn't stay cross for long, but it seemed wise at this point to at least fake a look of repentance. Nevertheless, she didn't have to pretend for more than a few seconds, as Harry and Ron had finally halted their conversation (to catch their rapidly fleeing breath, no doubt) and noticed the latest addition to their table.

"Ginny!" Harry said, a startled look materializing on his face as he turned towards her. "When did you get here? Wait, never mind that. Are you ready for the match today? I scheduled a team meeting after classes, so we can go over our strategy. Katie and Demelza have got some new maneuvers they want to try out, but I told them to talk it over with you first to make sure you're all on the same page. Make absolutely sure you're there, alright?"

"I will be, Harry," Ginny told him. "No need to give yourself a heart attack!"

He was obviously in full Quidditch-mode, and she shuddered to think what would have befallen her if she had opted for staying in bed rather than going to the match. Most likely, her bespectacled captain would have ended up in Azkaban for committing an exceedingly violent murder. Still, even his intense and occasionally worrisome fervor was a step up from the awkward tension that had recently existed between the two of them. It was a shame that once the match was over, she would be forced to continue avoiding him like the plague.

"You're going to come watch the game, right Hermione?" Ron asked suddenly, a poorly concealed air of hope in his voice.

Ginny ducked her head and busied herself with peeling her orange, failing to hold back a grin. She supposed it was for the best that Hermione was completely oblivious to her brother's affections, as his attempt at sounding offhand was truly abysmal.

"Yes, I think I will," Hermione said, doing a far better job of containing herself. "I've only just finished my essay on the archeological findings of 1659 for Ancient Runes, so I should have plenty of spare time to go to the match."

"_Anyway_," Harry interrupted their conversation impatiently, throwing a stern glance at Ron. "It won't matter who shows up in the stands if we let Slytherin flatten us. As much as it kills me to admit it, they've got a stronger line-up than ever, and it's going to take more than luck to take them out of the running. Right now our only concern should be winning the Cup, and that's not going to happen unless I get one hundred percent effort and concentration from each and every player on the team!"

He stared at the three of them, breathing heavily, with a fiercely determined gleam in his eyes.

They blinked owlishly at him for several seconds, until Ginny let a muffled giggle escape into the air. Within moments they were rolling in their seats with laughter, as Harry's firm gaze faded into a grin, and he joined them in their mirth.

Ginny wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, the forgotten, half-peeled orange still clutched in her palm. "I'm sorry," she gasped through lingering chuckles. "It's just…the look on your face! You…should have…seen yourself!" And she lapsed back into gales of laughter.

"She's right, mate," teased Ron. "You looked like a four-eyed version of Oliver Wood."

A mock look of seriousness appeared on Harry's face. "You two had better watch it," he said, in an uncannily accurate impression of his former captain. "An attitude like that will get you kicked off the team faster than you can say 'deranged Quidditch fanatic.'"

"Which is exactly what you are, Harry James Potter," Hermione chastised playfully, to another round of chuckles.

In the midst of their lighthearted laughter, Ginny was suddenly aware of a strange prickling at the back of her neck that crept slowly and secretively down the bones of her spine. The idea that she was being watched arose in her mind, and she turned her head ever so slightly to the left, peeking over her shoulder for the culprit.

Not surprisingly, a pale, pointed face was directed at her from the Slytherin table.

She thought to send him a questioning look (because, really, what reason could Malfoy possibly have for staring at her during breakfast?), but no sooner had she let her ginger brows contract into a frown than he had blinked, hiding his shadowy eyes momentarily from her gaze. When he unsheathed them from their lids, they had ceased to rest on her face and were looking through her with cold indifference, as if she were simply a part of the tapestry-covered wall behind her.

Not sure what to think, Ginny turned back around and stared fixedly at her plate of orange peels, as if it could somehow give solutions to the myriad of questions that were floating unanswered in her mind. It made no sense for him to be watching her in the first place, let alone deciding that she didn't exist a second later. And what's more, she had almost felt disappointed when he had refused to acknowledge her, a fact that weighed on her mind more than all of her other worries put together. She should be _glad _he was ignoring her. Merlin knew she would have rejoiced at the thought mere days ago.

Lost in thought and still frowning at the leathery bits of peel in front of her, it was several moments before Ginny noticed the significant change in atmosphere at the Gryffindor table.

Her friends' ringing laughter had died away into silence, leaving the three of them to stare wordlessly at her downcast expression through curious eyes.

"What's up with _you_?" Ron inquired, not very kindly to say the least.

Harry scowled and elbowed him in the ribs. "Is something wrong?" he asked her, his expression softening.

"Oh no, Harry," she said quickly. Cursing herself silently for letting her recent habit of spacing out rear its ugly head, she shook her worries out of her mind. "Just thinking about the match, that's all. There are a few maneuvers I've been practicing, and I just can't wait to try them out on the field."

It was becoming quite alarming lately, the speed at which she could whip up a lie. Even so, from the looks on her friends' faces, she hadn't even been able to fool Ron.

Which was quite a disappointment, considering his level of intuition was usually lower than that of Neville's toad.

"Well," Hermione broke the silence following Ginny's attempt at deception, a falsely cheery tone forced into her voice. "That's good isn't it? One hundred percent concentration and all that, right Harry?"

"I suppose…" Harry replied, not taking his eyes off the younger girl's face. He didn't press the subject further, however, and Ginny took this as her cue to avoid explaining herself, at least for the time being.

Shooting a grateful look at Hermione (for she had obviously been trying to do Ginny a favor by pretending to believe her weak story), she grabbed a piece of toast and made to stand up from the table.

"You know, guys, I'd better get going. I left my bag up in the dorms, and I'd hate to be late to class and end up with a detention on the day of the big game!"

"But—," Harry started, glancing up at her from his seat.

"I know, I know." She waved a hand carelessly in the air, nearly hitting him in the face with her toast. "'Don't forget the meeting,' right? I know this lecture back and front! See you then!"

She flashed a smile at the three of them and turned on her heel before they could answer. Weaving between the tables, she resisted the nagging urge to glance sideways at the group of students sitting beneath the Slytherin banner, and left the clatter of the Great Hall behind her.

oooo

Stabbing moodily at a plateful of eggs with his fork, Draco heard the doors of the Great Hall bang shut after a blur of fiery red hair. What had once been a healthy morning appetite had vanished, leaving a knot of angry snakes to writhe uncomfortably in his stomach.

Regrettably, they had nothing to do with pre-match jitters.

The Gryffindor table had drawn his attention on this particular morning, for reasons he would rather leave unexplored, and his findings left him with an assortment of tumultuous feelings. The shrieks of laughter bubbling up from the Weaslette and her Golden Trio were certainly not uncommon, and had never before caused anything other than annoyance to him. It was merely another cause to resent them, on a long, long list of other various reasons.

But seeing her laugh with them today…it was somehow more than he cared to deal with. When she was around her friends, the weary ambience that had shrouded her the day before seemed to melt away, letting a more radiant mood shine through the gloom. Absentmindedly, he found himself wishing that he could bring about such a change in her; that she would ever laugh at something he had said, not sarcastically, but a genuine laugh. She had looked almost beautiful, the way her eyes had lit up with a warm glow, reflecting the sunshine from the sky-like ceiling.

Draco suddenly froze with his fork paused in midair, as his common sense caught up to his thoughts.

It was impossible for a Weasley to be (he shuddered at the thought of the other word he had used to describe her) pleasant-looking. Decent, maybe, but not—_that_. It was wholly unthinkable, and yet, he had thought it. The unwanted emotions that were currently racing through his system like hundreds of crazed third-graders on roller skates must have affected his eyesight somehow.

Not to mention his entire semblance of self.

It was bad enough to be having hallucinations of attractive redheads, but he was actually starting to feel jealous of a group of saintly wanna-be-sleuths! It was true that most of his life had been spent in solitude, but he had never before felt anything resembling loneliness in the slightest. It just wasn't the Malfoy way to trust anyone other than themselves.

Lately though, a sad sort of longing had crept into his chest, and the obvious friendship between the Gryffindors only succeeded in making it twinge painfully inside of him. He had friends too, of course, but they were really better described as loyal subjects, eager to please but never willing to go out of their way to get to know someone. Not like her at all. None of them knew what was really going on in his life, and the one person who did was too busy giggling at Potter's pathetic attempts at humor to pay any attention. Several times during breakfast he had been on the verge of storming across the Great Hall and dragging her kicking and screaming away from them, maybe to lock her in a broom closet some place where they'd never find her.

To put it simply, he hated it. He hated seeing her with anyone else, no matter who they were. He hated stupid Gryffindor and stupid Potter with his stupid, _stupid_ scar and unfailing ability to always catch the Snitch in the nick of time, leaving Draco to drag his defeated team back to the changing rooms and contemplate drowning himself in the showers.

He sighed angrily and dropped his fork onto the table, giving up on breakfast entirely. The other Slytherins, accustomed to his moodiness, were unfazed by this outburst and ignored the deathly glares he had taken to shooting around the table. Running a hand through his hair, he snarled at nobody in particular and shoved his chair backwards.

He was beginning to disgust himself. Getting jealous of Gryffindors? Thinking sugar-coated thoughts about a Weasley? It was just too sad.

But even as he stood from his chair and swept dramatically out of the Great Hall, he couldn't shut out the image of the laughing red-haired girl that burned furiously behind his eyes.

**A/N:** I love **Reviews **:hint hint:


	7. An Unexpected Rescue

The Choices We Make

Chapter 7: An Unexpected Rescue

** Disclaimer: **All I own is the plot, I promise! (Unless you want to give me HP for my birthday, which would be greatly appreciated )

** A/N: **Here is Chapter 7! I loved writing this one, especially the match, so I hope you all like it!

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"Alright. Katie, you're going to come from the left, see, and Ginny and Demelza will back you up from below. Remember, the _left._"

Ginny sat on the floor with her legs folded beneath her and her Cleansweep Seven on her lap, watching Harry zip around the meeting room from person to person, waving a stack of game plans in their faces.

Classes had passed in a boring blur, and a desperate itch to be up in the air had been growing in her fingertips since breakfast. She listened to her fellow Chaser assure Harry (for the sixth time, no less) that she did, in fact, know her right from her left, and suppressed an amused grin. Brushing a smudge of dirt off the handle of her broom, she wondered vaguely if Malfoy was that anxious before turning his own team loose onto the field.

Ginny frowned. 'Don't _think_ about him,' she scolded herself, forcing her mind away from that particular topic. She really didn't need the aggravation that would surely result from letting her thoughts dwell on such a confusing subject. This was, after all, the game that would decide which House would be awarded the Quidditch Cup for the year.

"Listen up, team!" Harry called, clapping his hands together. All eyes turned towards their captain as he walked to the front of the room and let out an excited breath of air. "This is it, guys. This is what we've been working towards all year, and today's results will make or break Gryffindor's chances of winning the Cup."

"Here, here!" shouted Ron, raising his hand in a mock toast.

Ginny rolled her eyes at him. "Save your enthusiasm for the field, why don't you?" she said sarcastically, as he stuck his tongue out at her. "Merlin knows, you'll need it," she added under her breath.

Oblivious to the siblings' spat, Harry continued his speech. "Now I want you all to remember the tactics we've gone over, especially the new maneuvers. Are there any questions? No? Good." He paused and took a deep breath. "Then we're ready to go."

An audible sigh of relief could be heard throughout the room, and Ginny scrambled to her feet, eager to begin the game. 'Finally,' she thought thankfully. For some reason the meeting had felt like it went on for days, and she couldn't wait to get up in the air. Giving the laces on her trainers one last tug, she tucked her broom under her arm and followed the rest of the team onto the field.

The roar of the spectators floated out over the Quidditch pitch, and a gust of wind blew her hair behind her shoulders. She glanced up at the commentator's podium and saw Luna Lovegood, with a Gryffindor lion perched on her blonde head, calling the names of the players into a megaphone. As each team member took off into the air, the cheers of the crowd grew louder and Ginny felt a buzz of excitement grow in her stomach. She was glad to find that her morning forecast had been a perfect prediction, as the weather couldn't have been better if someone had planned it. At last, she heard Luna call out "Weasley!" in her magnified voice, and swung her leg over her broomstick, pushing off hard from the ground.

It was truly magnificent. The rush of adrenaline, the raw freedom, the feeling of being weightless, suspended in the air by next to nothing. Ginny urged her broom higher, savoring the tranquility that she had almost forgot existed, as her hair streamed out behind her in a fiery river. All her worries about school or Harry or Malfoy melted away, leaving her happier than she had been in weeks.

Flying into place between Demelza and Katie, Ginny watched as the Slytherin team mounted their brooms. Unable to restrain herself, she let her eyes lock onto a blonde head and followed its progress into the air.

A whistle blew loudly and she started, glancing around to ensure that no one had noticed who she had been staring at. Madam Hooch was standing in the middle of the field, peering up at the two teams through her hawk-like eyes, with a silver whistle between her teeth.

"You all know that this match will determine the winner of the Quidditch Cup for this year," she barked. "But keep in mind that the rules don't change because of it. I don't want to see any of them broken, understood? Now good luck, and may the best team win!" With that, she kicked open the trunk and released the Bludgers and Golden Snitch, simultaneously throwing the Quaffle up into the air.

The field exploded with moving color as blurs of crimson and green dove towards the scarlet ball, while others soared away into their positions. Racing ahead, Ginny managed to duck under a Slytherin chaser's outstretched arms and snatch the Quaffle before he could capture it. She dove down and passed it over her shoulder to Katie, nearly colliding with one of the stands in her haste.

She veered to the right, skidding to a stop in midair. 'Whew!' she thought, her heart pounding. 'Not even two minutes into the game and I've already almost knocked myself out!' Catching her breath, she zoomed back to the center of the field, where her fellow Chasers were tossing the Quaffle back and forth, over the heads of the Slytherin players. Weaving through the crowd of brooms, she once again seized the ball and shot off towards the Slytherin goal posts.

"Looks like Gryffindor's got the Quaffle again," came the dreamy voice of the commentator as Ginny neared the other team's Keeper. "I think she's heading for those big hoops over there, but I can't say that's a good idea. They look like Fairy Rings to me, and everyone knows that you shouldn't—"

A deafening cheer rising from the mass of red and gold in the stands cut her off, and it seemed they would never know (nor care) just what it was that they weren't supposed to do to Fairy Rings. While Luna was speculating about her intelligence level, Ginny had evaded the Slytherin Keeper and managed to score the first goal of the game, shooting the Quaffle straight through the center hoop. Letting out a laugh of triumph, she whirled around and high-fived several of her team members.

"Great job, Ginny!" Harry shouted as he flew past her, grinning from ear to ear.

Her single score seemed to have a colossal effect on the rest of the team, as they zipped animatedly around the field, dodging Bludgers easily. Ginny felt her confidence rise to immeasurable heights and did a couple of loop-de-loops, not able to resist showing off a bit for the crowd.

But this buoyant feeling was drastically short-lived.

Perhaps the Gryffindor team had gotten too big-headed, or maybe they were just distracted by their momentary victory. Whatever the reason, the air was soon filled with the applause of the Slytherin spectators, as their Chasers scored two back-to-back goals.

Ginny's self-assurance drained slowly away, and she darted desperately around the field, trying in vain to get possession of the Quaffle once again. She heard Harry shouting orders to Ritchie Coote and caught a fragment of his words as she flew by.

"I don't care if Hooch told you to play fair! Give him a bloody _concussion_ if you have to, just don't let them score again…"

His frantic voice faded into the breeze, and Ginny could tell that he was on his last nerve. At this point, though, there was no time to console him. She spotted the Quaffle under the arm of one of the Slytherin Chasers and took off through the air, ignoring the biting wind that beat at her face as she sped along. But before she could reach the crimson ball, a blur of green crossed her path and sent her spinning off course. She grasped the handle of her broom hard, and with all her strength, managed to straighten herself out.

Just in time to see Malfoy's smirking face as he raced away into the sky.

Ginny scowled in his general direction, disappointed that he was already too far off to see her. She refused to let him distract her from winning this match. That much, at least, was certain.

Spinning around vehemently, she caught Demelza's eye and jerked her head towards the Slytherin Chaser. The two of them zigzagged through the air, rapidly closing in on the holder of the Quaffle as he flew at the Gryffindor goal posts. Ginny rocketed up from beneath him and punched the ball out of his arms, but was once again knocked off course as another opponent snatched it from her. No more than a minute later, they scored for a third time, and the Slytherin stands erupted with cheers that tore at her eardrums.

'Harry was right about them,' Ginny thought grimly. 'They _are _a lot better than last year.'

She laughed cynically.

Who would have thought that having Malfoy as their captain would spark such an improvement? She had always known he was good, but that had never kept Gryffindor from their usual stunning victories before. For the first time, she was actually starting to doubt her team's chances of winning.

Before she could get too desperate though, an enormous gasp manifested itself from the hundreds of voices belonging to spectators from each and every House.

Ginny whipped her head around, searching for the cause of this reaction. Her eyes finally landed on two streaks of color, which were catapulting towards the ground in hot pursuit of a tiny fleck of gold. She felt hope rise inside of her for a fleeting moment, before realizing that, miraculously, the green blur seemed to be taking the lead. Dread replaced her temporary optimism, as the shouts coming from the crowd grew exponentially and filled her head with a rhythmic pounding.

Or perhaps that was her heart, beating frantically inside her chest.

Whatever the reason, it was enough to fully and completely distract her, and she didn't tear her eyes away from the exhilarating race until a yell pierced her focus.

"Ginny, watch out!"

Twisting her head in the direction of the voice, she saw Katie's fearful face, along with the reason for her warning. A speeding Bludger was barreling towards her at record-breaking pace, whistling angrily as it flew across the pitch. Time seemed to slow down, and Ginny froze as the iron ball grew relentlessly nearer and nearer, blank surprise emptying her mind and preventing her from moving. When it was only meters away, she snapped out of her daze, but it was already too late.

Ginny let out a soft "Oh!" of surprise, her eyes widening, before the Bludger collided sickeningly with her shoulder. She felt something inside her crack, and pain flooded her right side, ripping through her like an out of control forest fire. Her grip on her broom handle loosened and she slipped sideways, only vaguely comprehending what a drop from this height was sure to result in.

A second later she was falling, falling with no means of support towards the dusty floor of the Quidditch pitch. A rushing noise like the sounds of a thousand waterfalls filled her ears and drowned out the cries of the spectators. Plummeting faster and faster through the air, Ginny felt her hold on reality slip, and her surroundings melted into vibrant swirls of color. Then they too grew dim, losing their intensity and merging with the streaming air, the bite of the wind on her body, the screaming that just barely reached her ears…

And then there was nothing.

oooo

Ginny kept her eyes squeezed shut as she crept back into consciousness, her cloudy mind unwilling to awaken. Faint murmurs were coming from somewhere close by, perhaps even from one of her dreams, but she couldn't for the life of her make out what they were saying. Cursing them silently for interrupting her nap, she tried to pull a pillow over her ears and block out the despicable voices.

Her arm remained motionless on the mattress. Frowning slightly, she concentrated all her efforts on lifting it.

When she had been fighting in vain for several minutes, Ginny finally gave up and pondered instead the strange mumblings that had awoken her in the first place. She found that if she listened very closely, straining her ears as far as they would go, she could understand snatches of what they were whispering.

"…think she'll be awake soon?"

"I don't know. Fell a long way..."

"…can't believe he…"

"Shhh. Not so loud, guys. You'll wake her …"

The voices grew quieter still and, try as she might, Ginny could no longer follow their conversation. Before she had time to lament this though, a sharp prickle of pain stabbed at her shoulder, eliciting a soft moan from her lips.

The whispering stopped.

"Ginny?" she heard a familiar voice call out softly.

Forcing her eyes open, she was met with a round, very freckled face, just inches from her own.

"Ron?" she questioned, squinting up at him. This was very odd indeed. "What in Merlin's name are you doing in my bedroom?"

Her brother grinned and leaned back so she could sit up. "Well, last time I checked you didn't consider the Hospital Wing a very desirable place to sleep," he replied teasingly. "But, who knows, some of these habits of yours…"

Ginny ignored him (something she had become quite good at over the years) and struggled into a sitting position. The useless limb she had once called an arm hung limply at her side, and she scowled at it grumpily before surveying the room.

Sure enough, she was lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by unusually shaped bottles of pills and potions. The clean smells that were typical of any infirmary wafted around her and caused her nose to wrinkle in disapproval. Propping herself up with her only mobile arm, Ginny glanced back at where Ron had been sitting and was surprised to see the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, along with a worried-looking Hermione, standing beside her bed in their uniforms. Even more puzzling was the fact that she herself was wearing a scarlet robe, and her hair was feeling more windswept than ever.

Then something clicked inside her head, and she remembered.

"Oh my god." Ginny breathed, hardly daring to continue. "The match! What happened? We lost, didn't we? Oh, Harry I'm so sorry, if only I'd been paying more attention—"

Harry shook his head and a smile replaced his solemn expression. "We didn't lose," he said simply. Holding out a gloved hand, he uncurled his fingers and Ginny peered into them.

A rather crumpled Golden Snitch lay twitching in his palm.

"We won?" she whispered disbelievingly. "We _actually_ won?"

"Yes!" Harry nearly shouted, and she could tell that he must have been working hard to stay somber while she was unconscious. The excitement was clearly threatening to overwhelm him. "We got the Cup and crushed Slytherin into a messy pulp, all in one go! You should have seen it. They were livid! Crabbe even snapped his broom in half, right out in front of the crowd!"

He said this all very quickly, and by the time he had finished, the majority of the Gryffindor team had joined in. Their voices overlapped into one clamorous jumble, reliving their moments of victory, but Ginny had stopped listening. Her brow creased in confusion, and she was staring very hard at the Snitch in her captain's hand.

"But…you were losing," she said quietly, turning her eyes towards Harry's face. "I saw the whole thing! Malfoy was ahead of you. He was _inches_ from winning. You couldn't have caught up in time, it's just not possible…"

She trailed off at the uncomfortable expressions that had settled on her team members' faces. Katie had started fidgeting with her broom, untangling the knots that appeared after every match, and Ron was glaring sulkily at the floor, his lips set in a stern line. Several others became suddenly fascinated with their fingernails, as if they could see them grow if they just stared hard enough. The only one who hadn't sunk into a dismal silence was Hermione, who was glaring disapprovingly at each robed player in turn.

She was the first to speak.

"Oh for goodness sake!" she huffed, throwing her hands in the air. Her brunette curls seemed to grow in volume at her mood, making her resemble an exasperated grizzly bear. "For a hero to the wizarding world, you sure are a coward sometimes, Harry! She's going to find out sooner or later, so you might as well make sure she learns it from you."

Ginny was completely nonplussed. "Learn what? What are you all talking about?" she questioned, attempting to sit up straighter without further injuring her arm.

When it became evident that Harry was no where near revealing the subject of their conversation, Hermione took things back into her own hands. After shooting a harsh glance at the others, her expression turned almost sympathetic when she looked back at Ginny.

"He caught you," she said simply, ignoring the loud grinding of Ron's teeth behind her. "Malfoy saw you fall, and he caught you."

Ginny blinked, Hermione's words not fully registering in her mind. It was as if she was incapable of comprehending their meaning. Like they were in a different language; some foreign tongue that was no longer used in modern society.

Malfoy? Save_ her_? It was impossible.

"You're joking, right?" she asked, desperate for a logical explanation to this development. But their faces carried no laughter, only grim acceptance. Or in Ron's case, blatant denial. She continued, nonetheless.

"He would have won the Cup, though! For the first time in six years, Slytherin would have won!"

"We know," Harry replied, avoiding her eyes and examining the Snitch in his hand. "Just like you said, he was inches away from beating us. Then all of a sudden he took off, and I didn't even think to wonder why. If I'd just glanced up for one second…if I wasn't so obsessed with winning, I would have seen you fall."

Through her overpowering astonishment at having learned the identity of her savior, Ginny felt a stir of sympathy for Harry. It was obvious that he was feeling guilty, and maybe even a tad resentful, that he hadn't been the one to rescue her. Reaching out her uninjured arm, she laid her hand on his shoulder.

"Harry, don't you dare beat yourself up about this. It's not worth it, honestly. We won the Cup, right? That's why we've been training all year! This makes all those times you dragged us out of bed at five in the morning to practice in the snow, or sleet, or hail worthwhile."

Harry had the decency for a sheepish grin, and Ginny was relieved to feel the mood lighten considerably. Fierce shock and confusion still lingered in her mind, but heaven help her if she was going to let that show through to her friends. No matter how insane the notion of Malfoy as her rescuer was, it was something she would have to deal with on her own.

"So," she continued, forcing her face to look as cheerful as possible. "I guess a bit of celebration is in order, don't you think?" It took every bit of willpower she had to suggest such a thing, as without a doubt there was nothing she would have enjoyed less. Some quiet, peaceful time to think would have far more welcome at the moment.

But, true to her falsely joyful self, she sat beaming up at the Gryffindor team like she hadn't a care in the world. She kept up this façade as they crowded around her bed, their previous uncertainty long forgotten, and began talking excitedly about the match, abusing the Slytherins at every chance they came across. Ginny nodded and smiled, trying desperately to keep her mind on the topic at hand, but luckily her discomfort didn't last long.

A door at the opposite end of the Hospital Wing flew open, and a rather frazzled looking Madam Pomfrey came bustling towards the group of students. Stopping at Ginny's bedside table, she set a bright purple bottle down with a thump and turned a disapproving pair of eyes on the Gryffindor team.

"What have I told you about throwing parties in the hospital?!" she said harshly. "I expected more out of you, Mr. Potter. Really, can't you see this girl needs rest? A broken arm, not to mention the stress of having fallen from one of those ridiculous brooms, and you _still _attempt to involve her in a celebration?"

"Sorry, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said quickly, backing away from the bed. The rest of the team stood hurriedly from chairs and collected their brooms, glancing nervously at the irritable nurse. "We'll just be going now."

"Too right you will," she mumbled, more to herself than anything. "Now, out! Out!"

Bidding their injured friend a rushed goodbye, the red and gold clad Gryffindors piled out of the Hospital Wing, shouting promises to come back and visit soon over their shoulders. The door swung shut behind them and quiet settled over the room, bringing a sigh of relief from Ginny's lips. Madam Pomfrey was continuing her usual spiel on the dangers of "that preposterous sport," while measuring out a careful dosage of the purple potion, but Ginny's mind was far away.

Now that her teammates were gone, she was free to dwell on the reason for her miraculous survival. Someone, she admitted reluctantly to herself, she had been far too preoccupied with lately. So much, in fact, that she was starting to wonder if she would end up suffering permanent brain damage from the whole ordeal.

At least that would be worth a laugh.

But, mental injuries aside, she just couldn't stop herself from wondering about him. His one chance at success had been flapping its glittery wings in his face, and he had put her safety above it all. In front of the entire student population, no less! If being seen speaking to a Gryffindor was enough to earn him a lifetime of shunning, she hated to think what the punishment for actually saving one would be.

In the end, there was only one question capable of encompassing the swarm of thoughts buzzing around in her head.

_Why?_

Why had he caught her? Why hadn't he left it to one of her own teammates, who could have surely gotten there in time? Why did he _care?_

Still pondering this mystifying turn of events, Ginny failed to resist Madam Pomfrey's ministrations and allowed a syrupy magenta liquid to be poured down her throat. She was jolted sharply back into reality as it burned at her mouth with an acidic sourness, sliding across her tongue and dripping into her lungs. Madam Pomfrey drained the last of the bottle, shook a few stubborn drops out of the bottom, and pursed her lips in disapproval at the disgusted look on her patient's face.

"Really, now," she huffed, cramming the empty container into her apron pocket. "Make sure you drink every bit of that potion. That arm is going to take some time to heal. The bones are completely shattered, so don't expect to get out of her before tomorrow night at the least."

Nodding reluctantly, Ginny swallowed the vile substance. Her face contorted in revulsion as it slid behind her tongue, but the smoldering sensation lessened as she felt the potion settle in her stomach. She repressed a gag with difficulty.

"Thanks," she choked out hoarsely, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"You're very welcome, dear," Madam Pomfrey replied absentmindedly. It seemed that at least some of her annoyance towards the situation had faded, and she was no longer shaking her head or clicking her tongue at random intervals.

Ginny watched as she gathered up her things and hustled over to the next hospital bed, currently occupied by a very scaly-looking third year. Losing interest rather quickly (as such blemishes were far from unusual at Hogwarts), Ginny let out a long breath of air and leaned back against the cotton pillows. She was suddenly exhausted, and the idea of falling back into unconsciousness was starting to seem very appealing.

But no sooner than her eyelids had begun to droop shut, the door to the Hospital Wing swung open yet again.

Groaning miserably at her luck, Ginny sank further into her pillow and tried to block out the rest of the world. 'Really, this is a hospital!' she thought irritably. 'People shouldn't be allowed to pop in and out, disturbing the peace and keeping me a—'

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy! Glad you could get here so quickly," Madam Pomfrey's voice brought her swiftly out of her musings.

Ginny's eyes snapped open. Sure enough, Malfoy had entered the Hospital Wing and shut the door behind him, a corked potion bottle in his hand. He had changed out of his Quidditch robes and back into the usual plain, black uniform, his Slytherin badge catching the light as he turned around.

A constant reminder of what she had gotten herself into.

"Professor Snape sent me to bring you this," she heard him say, holding out the bottle to Madam Pomfrey. His eyes were fixed straight ahead, but she thought they might have flickered briefly in her direction. "He said he's brewed it according to your instructions exactly."

"Very good, very good," the Healer replied, uncorking the bottle and sniffing its contents. "Poor Mr. Winfrey has given himself an awful rash, and I'm afraid none of my own medicines are strong enough to get him up on his feet again." The reptilian patient gave a few hacking coughs at this, as it seemed that even his throat was covered in coarse scales.

Closing the potion bottle, Madam Pomfrey thanked Malfoy once more and hurried into her office, shutting the door behind her. Without another word, the now empty-handed Slytherin turned to leave.

Ginny couldn't believe his nerve. "Hey!" she called indignantly from her bed, in an attempt to get his attention. He stopped walking, his hand resting on the doorknob. "What are you playing at? You can't just walk in here and ignore me. I know what happened at the match, and I won't deny that it's a disturbing concept, but pretending I don't exist won't make it all disappear, you know."

She glared at the back of his blonde head, unsure whether or not she really wanted him to turn around. What if he just stared right through her, like he did at breakfast? She suddenly started wishing she had kept silent and let him leave. But then again, this might be her only chance to find out what went on in that over-inflated head of his.

"That's not a very nice way to talk to the person who rescued you, now is it?" Malfoy said finally, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned around.

"Yeah, well, since when have we ever been nice to each other?" she replied testily. "Did you think saving me would change any of that?"

"So we could live happily ever after, like some sodding fairytale? No _thanks,_" he spat, his words coated with venom. He was looking at her indirectly. Not the same blank stare he had adopted at breakfast, but still avoiding her eyes, like she could burn a hole through him with her gaze.

Ginny felt her blood boil angrily. "Well if that's not the reason, then I can't imagine what is. You must have just gone temporarily mad in the middle of the match, unless—" She paused in her heated rant, as a sudden thought struck her. "Unless you did it all on purpose!"

Malfoy's brow creased disbelievingly. "_What?_ Have you completely lost your mind?!"

But Ginny, caught up entirely in her newfound suspicions, ignored him completely.

"You planned this so you could dangle it over my head for the rest of my life! God, how could I be so _stupid_? This is obviously just another of your insane schemes to prove how _superior_ you are, compared to us measly little Gryffindors, falling off our pathetic brooms left and right! 'Oh Malfoy, come save us! We're so helpless, we need a big, important Slytherin to rescue us! Then he can go tell all his little friends how he's so brave, and noble, and—'"

"Weaslette, shut up!"

She did, though quite reluctantly.

They glowered at each other from across the room, eyes narrowed and arms (or arm, in Ginny's case) crossed tightly over dully pounding heartbeats. Her mind registered blankly that this was the first time since yesterday that he was actually looking at her.

"Why do you call me that?" she asked finally, bringing their tense silence to an end. A trace of sulkiness hung in her voice, giving it the tone of a whine.

He didn't answer; only stared back with an almost frightening intensity.

"Malfoy?" Ginny prompted curiously.

Silence.

She tried a different approach. "Malfoy, why did you save me?"

This finally brought about a reaction, though not at all what she had expected. Instead of his usual mocking sneer, a dark expression flashed across his face like lightning, as if he were suddenly in pain. "I always knew Weasley's had abnormally thick skulls, but I never thought they were _completely_ brain dead," he said quietly, an unmistakable snarl in his words.

"What do you—" Ginny began, her face twisted in confusion at his cryptic answer. But before she could finish, Madam Pomfrey came rushing into the room for the second time, brandishing yet another potion bottle.

Momentarily distracted, the two of them abandoned their heated questioning. Ginny pulled her blankets hastily around her body and folded her good arm over them, hoping to avoid another tirade about the dangers of overexerting herself. Madam Pomfrey, not noticing that Malfoy had yet to leave the Hospital Wing, walked straight back to Ginny's bed.

"Oh dear," she sighed, clicking her tongue as she examined her patient's bandaged arm. "That medicine should have sent you right off to sleep so this can heal!" She uncorked the bottle in her other hand, and measured out a second glass of the syrupy potion.

"But I—" Ginny stammered, looking from the medicine, to Malfoy, and back again. She hadn't found out what he meant. She couldn't sleep now. She had to finish asking him…

But Madam Pomfrey had already begun to pour the contents of the glass into her mouth, the familiar sting burning her throat once again. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed hard, gritting her teeth as the potion sent rivers of sparks through her veins. Then they flickered out, and a blanket of exhaustion replaced them. Her head fell heavily onto her pillow as she struggled to keep her eyelids from shutting, their sudden heaviness making it harder and harder to stay awake.

She cast a final glance around the room, catching an indescribable expression on Malfoy's face, and then she was asleep.


	8. Conversations at Midnight

The Choices We Make

Chapter 8: Conversations at Midnight

**Disclaimer: **Definitely not my creation. 'nough said.

**A/N: **Ok… I know there was a looong wait for this chapter, and I'd just like to apologize to everyone who's emailed me telling me to hurry it up! I really do appreciate everyone who reads my story, and I can't thank you enough. But, on the bright side, school is almost over and summer will hopefully bring much more writing time!

I hope you enjoy Chapter 8!

* * *

Over the next few days, Ginny's situation failed to improve much at all.

She had been released from Madam Pomfrey's meticulous watch after a couple more doses of the vile, purple potion, but her stay in the Hospital Wing had been flooded with far more confusion than she would have thought possible. Malfoy hadn't returned after his brief (yet slightly catastrophic) visit, leaving his parting words to linger in her mind, festering away and getting nowhere.

Ginny tried not to think about him. She really did. But even when she was surrounded by friends, reading get-well cards and hearing about Filch's latest crusades against Peeves, her eyes would sometimes flicker over to the door where he had stood, as his words echoed tauntingly inside her head. She even gave Hagrid quite a scare when he came up to the Hospital Wing after classes, only to find her shouting insults at the wall during one of her more vivid memories. After he left a box of homemade pumpkin cookies on her table (which she secretly slid under the bed for the house elves to throw away later), she could have sworn she heard him questioning Madam Pomfrey about possible head injuries.

And, as if annoying Slytherins and inedible cookies wasn't enough, she soon realized that not even a shattered bone could stop the constant avalanche of schoolwork that seemed intent on burying her alive. While Hermione had offered on more than one occasion to bring her assignments down to the hospital, Ginny, being the dedicated student she was, bluntly refused.

Something she rather regretted now that she found herself slouched in an armchair in the common room, once again flipping aimlessly through one of her textbooks.

The sounds of scratching quills and crackling logs on the fire seemed magnified a dozen times before they reached her ears, and she groaned loudly as her thoughts scattered away from her yet again. She had been sitting in the same place for over three hours. Herbology, Charms, History, Potions…She doubted if she could even tell the difference anymore. And it was getting _so _late! Most of the other Gryffindors had wandered off to their beds ages ago.

Dragging her heavy eyes away from the book in her lap, Ginny let them scan the room instead. Sure enough, she was one of the last students remaining downstairs at this time of night. A few seventh years were still scribbling away at their studies, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting at their usual table in the corner, bent over what had to be an awfully intense game of Wizard's Chess. Ginny started to turn back to her textbook, summoning up every bit of willpower she had to do so, but something about the looks on her friends' faces held her back.

The two boys were seated at opposite ends of the board, staring hard at the enchanted stone pieces, as Hermione watched from behind An Encyclopedia of Egyptian Runes. It was typical enough at a glance, but as Ginny continued to watch them, it was obvious that their concentrated expressions had nothing to do with the game. Harry, who would usually sit in silence and quietly contemplate ways to avoid his inevitable loss to Ron's chessmen, was whispering rapidly to the others. His hands darted through the air in front of him as he spoke, obviously getting more and more agitated by the minute. Ginny noticed that although Hermione's book was propped wide open in front of her, she had yet to lower her eyes to its pages. Instead, she was listening intently to Harry's whispered rant, shaking her head slowly from side to side as if to gently disagree with whatever he was saying.

The fire gave another enormous pop, and Ginny's knees jerked, sending her semi-forgotten textbook tumbling down to meet the carpet. She picked it up hastily and shot a furtive glance around the room, her heart thumping loudly in surprise.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had stopped whispering, and were watching Ginny cautiously out of the corners of their eyes. Her suspicion flared higher than ever at this abrupt secrecy, but she managed to keep her wandering eyes in her lap, where they roved distractedly over the typed words in her book.

It was clear that whatever it was they had been talking about was not meant for her to hear. A pang of annoyance mingled with her more-than-budding curiosity, and she gripped the edge of the armchair with one hand, fighting to keep from looking up at them again. The black letters on the page she was staring at seemed to blur, and she focused on them harder, determined not to let her nosiness get the best of her. She trudged through word after word, forcing the letters into her head and not comprehending a single one.

'There go my chances of scraping a few OWL's,' she thought begrudgingly, her lips twitching in a sort of sardonic grimace. 'At least Fred and George will be proud.'

She made it halfway down the page in this gritty fashion, before hearing someone sit down in the chair facing hers.

"Oh. Hi, Hermione."

The bushy-haired girl smiled back at her, and Ginny couldn't help but notice a certain tightness in her expression. "Hello, Ginny. Goodness, you've been sitting here for a while. How's your studying coming along?"

"Fine…" she replied slowly, not taking her eyes off her friend's face. It was a well-known fact that homework was Hermione's motive for living, but for some reason she didn't trust this particular inquiry. It was a bit _too_ casual. It reminded her of the times she used to stall before telling her mother about her latest exam scores, talking about the weather, the garden gnomes, the laundry…anything but the real reason for the conversation.

"Well, that's good," Hermione went on, staring into the fire as Ginny continued to watch her suspiciously. "You must have a lot to make up after being in the Hospital Wing. Wouldn't want to fall behind."

Ginny nodded, her eyes still narrowed in caution, but didn't answer. An uncomfortable silence stretched out between them, growing longer and thicker by the minute as neither of them ventured to break it. There was evidently something going on that Hermione was reluctant to talk about, and Ginny was sure it must have had something to do with Harry's whisperings. She shifted slightly in her armchair, trying to get a glimpse of him and Ron without drawing their attention, wondering if they too were in on this…whatever it was…

"Ginny?"

Her eyes snapped hurriedly back to Hermione as she broke the silence, startling Ginny away from her perusal of the common room. "Hmm?" she answered innocently, trying not to look like she'd been pondering her friends' obviously secret conversations.

Hermione took a deep breath before continuing. "Are you…Have you been alright lately?" she asked, glancing nervously between the youngest Weasley and the fireplace.

"What do you mean?" Ginny said, her forehead wrinkling deeply in confusion. Had all that pointless small-talk about homework been a prelude to simply asking if she was alright? She had almost started to expect that someone had _died_ from the look on Hermione's face, let alone all the frantic whispering they'd been so intent on over their chess board.

"Well, you know," Hermione continued, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "I mean you haven't really been acting yourself lately. You space out in the middle of conversations, and the way you disappeared that time at Hogsmeade… Everyone's noticed it, and we just started wondering…well, wondering if there's something going on. Maybe something you don't want to tell us about."

'Oh no, Hermione, there's nothing going on,' Ginny thought bitterly to herself, biting her tongue to keep the words from spilling out. 'It's just that I've been spending an unusually large amount of time in the company of one of You-Know-Who's narcissistic, tremendously annoying ex-supporters, that's all. Oh, and possibly developing a strange assortment of feelings for him. But it's nothing to worry about, really. You can run along and tell Harry and Ron to stop speculating now.' She was sure it had been those two who had sent Hermione on her little interrogation. It was just like them to interfere like that, with absolutely _no_ consideration for her privacy. Just typical.

But of course, she couldn't say any of that out loud if she valued her friends. The whole "Death-Eater" aspect might turn out to be a little more than they could handle.

"No, Hermione," she sighed instead. "It's nothing like that I've just been really busy lately, with all this homework and studying…and I haven't been sleeping too well either. It's probably just stress, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, looking anything but convinced. Sensing that the conversation was about to take another hazardous turn, Ginny cut her off before she could reply.

"But you know, you are right about one thing," she said with as much enthusiasm as she could rally, snapping her textbook shut on her lap. "I _have_ been sitting here for ages. I think a change of scenery would probably help me concentrate on this." She waved the book in the air. "I definitely wouldn't want to turn in a bunch of second-rate assignments, especially with O.W.L.s being this year and all."

Knowing that there was no way on earth Hermione would be able to disagree with that, Ginny jumped to her feet and tucked her half-read, less than half-comprehended textbook under her arm. "I'm going to go sit by the lake for a while. Don't wait up for me, okay?"

"Oh…alright," Hermione said, sounding only a tad defeated. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Ginny nodded and blurted out a rushed goodbye on her way to the portrait hole. Climbing out into the corridor, she sighed gratefully, and let the Fat Lady swing shut behind her before hastening off towards the stairs.

In her hurry to leave the common room, she failed to notice a pair of curious green eyes following her as she disappeared through the door.

oooo

There was a fairly bright moon shining outside the castle that night, bouncing off the surface of the lake and gazing back up at its twin from beneath the water. The misty light kept the dirt path from disappearing into blackness, and Ginny followed it away from the castle, slowing to a stop as she neared the edge of the lake. Sitting down on a rock along the shore, she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them tightly, whether to ward off the chilly night air or her own thoughts, she wasn't sure. Her textbook lay forgotten on the ground as she turned the same events over and over in her head, feeling like she was getting farther from anything resembling a solution every time.

How many times was it now that she'd lied to her friends? Was tonight the fourth? The fifth? She must have lost track somewhere along the way, a notion that made her heart slip another guilty notch. What's more, it was_ Hermione_ that she had lied to, someone who she'd long considered as close as she'd ever get to having an older sister. Hermione had been the only one to treat her little obsession with Harry with any sort of respect, minus the numerous taunts and jokes she'd endured from nearly everyone else.

Somehow though, she couldn't exactly see her former confidant reacting to the current situation in the same way.

An involuntary grimace crossed Ginny's face as she imagined the results of such a conversation. It would no-doubt be so full of fights, curses, and the occasional severed body part, that a bit of untruthfulness between friends was starting to seem rather idyllic. Assuming she didn't crack from the pressure, keeping the truth a secret would likely prove the best way out of this mess. No one need know about the electricity that danced up and down her spine whenever she spotted Malfoy in the halls, or that hated voice in the back of her mind that had attacked her in Madam Puddifoot's.

And it wasn't as if they would have bought any of it, anyway. Even _she_ had trouble believing that a Weasley and a Malfoy could be anything but horrible to each other, and she'd been a witness to every second of it. While her memory disagreed, her mind was set firmly behind a fortress built from experience, cannons aimed and ready to fire on any platinum blonde peacock that got too close. Or at least that's how it should have been, if Malfoy hadn't had to go and be his usual irritating self.

Running a frustrated hand through her hair, Ginny let out a sharp huff and frowned angrily out at the lake. All of this because she'd walked past a bathroom at the wrong time! If only Professor Flitwick _had _given them homework that day, instead of allowing her the time to wander around the halls like that.

But then…if he had…she would never have realized how different Malfoy was from the way they all thought of him. They were spot on in believing that he was a stuck-up, spoiled excuse for a wizard, of course; but evil? Was he really on the wrong side of this war? Could she believe that the same boy who had cried in her arms on the bathroom floor was prepared to torture and kill innocent people? No. No, not even if she tried, she couldn't. She had seen him decide to turn spy for Dumbledore, and if he believed him, then so would she.

A chilly wind blew across the grounds and lifted Ginny's hair as she continued to stare out at the lake, watching ripples skate across the surface and not really seeing them. They grew as the giant squid raised a tentacle sluggishly into the air for a moment, before sinking silently back into the black water. The ripples ceased as it dove deeper into the lake, and Ginny sat motionless on her rock, too lost in her own mind to notice. With her chin propped up on her knees, she let her eyelids drift slowly downwards.

_-snap-_

Ginny let out a gasp as a sharp noise sounded from behind, and her legs shot out from under her. One of her shoes caught the edge of her textbook as she turned, sending it tumbling off the rock and into the lake with a splash.

"Gin, relax! It's just me."

Raising her eyes to the owner of the voice, she recognized the darkened, bespectacled figure, and let out a grateful breath of air.

"Oh," she replied, swallowing her surprise and urging her heartbeat to slow down. "Hi, Harry. I'm sorry; you just startled me for a second. I guess I…Oh! Oh, no!" She glanced frantically around, having just noticed the disappearance of her book. Leaning out over the edge of the rock and seeing nothing but murky water, Ginny let out a moan of disbelief.

"Oh God… McGonagall's going to kill me!"

"Of course not," Harry laughed, stepping towards the edge of the lake and pulling his wand out of his robes. "Look, we'll get it out of there in no time." He pointed his wand at the water and screwed up his eyes in concentration.

"Accio Textbook!"

Ginny's soggy, dripping homework broke the surface of the lake like a swimmer who had run out of oxygen. Harry stretched out his hands and caught it easily, before sitting down on the rock beside her and muttering another spell under his breath.

"See, this'll be as good as new in a minute," he said, glancing at her and grinning as he siphoned the water off of her book with the tip of his wand. When it was dry again he handed it back, and, careful not to let their hands touch, Ginny took it and thanked him quickly, hugging the book to her chest.

For a moment neither of them spoke; just stared at each other as the wind continued to swirl quietly around the two of them.

Harry cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. "So, er, what are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Ginny answered, raising her eyebrows. "I don't see Ron and Hermione though, so I'll guess you're not out trying to save the world again."

Looking like he didn't know whether to laugh or take offense, Harry settled for a kind of idiotic grin instead. "Well, you're right about that part," he said, before dropping his strange expression and going on. "I just saw you leave the common room and I thought you looked a little stressed out or something. That's all."

"Right…" Ginny replied slowly. "And the fact that you and Ron sent Hermione to go and question me has nothing to do with this, I imagine?"

Harry blinked at her in guilty surprise, looking like a child caught stealing cookies before dinner.

"Was it that obvious?" he grimaced, avoiding her eyes. Ginny nodded a bit sympathetically and he sighed, running a hand through his already ruffled hair. "We just want to know what's going on with you. And we figured if you were going to tell anybody it'd be Hermione, so I convinced her to do it for us." Ginny opened her mouth to speak, and he held up his hand to stop her from interrupting. "I _know _I should have just asked you myself, but it seems like every time we talk you're off in a different world, and I don't know why that is! It's like you don't even care about us anymore."

"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed, taken aback by his words. "How can you say that? I don't just stop caring about people overnight! You know me better than _that_." She paused and took a deep, silent breath to calm herself. "You guys have been my best friends for _years_, and I'm not about to forget that because of a little extra pressure. I'm just…having a little trouble sorting everything out right now. I'm not sure how I fit into what's been going on in my life, and I—"

Ginny's voice broke off mid-sentence as Harry put his arm around her shoulders, very unexpectedly in her opinion. She tried not to let her muscles stiffen too obviously.

"Um, Harry? What are you doing?"

He took a deep breath before answering.

"Ginny…" He began, trailing off as he looked down at their legs dangling over the shiny surface of the lake. "If you're having feelings like that, you should tell us. There's no point in keeping it all bottled up. We _are_ your friends, no matter how many secrets you keep from us. We want to help you. _I _want to help you." Ginny bit her lip, knowing what was coming next. "I—I care about you."

'There,' she thought to herself. 'He's finally said it.' She felt numb, somehow, not at all the way she used to imagine herself feeling in the event that Harry would confess his feelings to her. It surprised her, actually. Even after all the time that had passed since she had last looked at him with adoration and not-so-secret obsession, she thought she might at least feel _something_. Pity, sympathy…even regret. But there was nothing.

"Harry…"

She hesitated, not quite sure what to say. When the right words failed to appear on her tongue, she shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably instead.

"I don't think this is a good idea," she said, as Harry's arm slid back down to his side.

"What do you mean?" He looked puzzled, but Ginny had a feeling he knew exactly what she was referring to.

"I just...don't. When you say you care about me, I think it's different from the way I care about you." She had been speaking with her face turned away towards the darkened horizon, but now shifted and looked back into the eyes already focused on hers. "I'm your friend, Harry. I love being friends with you, and I don't ever want that to change."

It was Harry's turn to break their gaze, as he glanced down to study his intertwined fingers. For another long moment they sat in silence, but when he looked back up from his lap, a ghost of a smile had found its way to his lips.

"Neither do I," he answered at last. "I don't want us to ever stop being friends."

Ginny stared at him in surprise, before a sense of incredible relief washed down over her shoulders. It seemed like a good third of all of her troubles had simply fallen into the lake beneath them, and as she realized this, a grin slowly appeared on her face as well. The feeling of freedom expanded happily inside of her, rising up and out into the night air, a sugary bubble of laughter escaping over the water. Bit by bit, the two of them began to feel more and more giggles expand inside of them, until they were laughing gleefully and wholeheartedly without any idea why. Their bodies shaking and eyes sparkling, they didn't stop until Harry lost his balance and almost fell into the lake, avoiding a very wet fate only when Ginny managed to grab onto the back of his robes and re-stabilize him. Still with the occasional giggle, they settled themselves more carefully on the rock and pulled their dangling legs away from the water.

"Thanks for that," Harry managed, catching his breath.

Ginny smiled at him. "Anytime. At least we're even now, since you rescued my book."

"Right. It's great that you consider your homework as valuable as my life," he laughed, and a look of mock annoyance appeared on Ginny's face. Dodging a good-natured swat aimed his way, Harry hopped down off of the rock and landed on the long grass that covered the Hogwarts grounds. "Well…I'd better go back up to the common room. Wouldn't want Ron and Hermione to think I've been out trying to save the world without them."

"Definitely," Ginny agreed, nodding. "I'll probably follow in a minute; I don't think the lake is a very good spot for doing homework after all."

"Guess not. Oh, and Ginny?"

"Yeah?"

"Whoever he is…just tell him."

Ginny nearly choked. "I—," she stuttered, even while her brain felt like some of its gears were jammed in place. But Harry had already turned and started off towards the castle.

oooo

Draco steadied himself on his broom as he hovered behind a tree near the lake's edge, his knuckles white from gripping its handle. It was taking every bit of will power he had not to yank out his wand and curse Potter from behind.

He had only come out this late to get a hold on himself, and with the night being so chilly, he never expected anyone else to be outside of the castle. Just a few laps around the lake on his broom to clear his head, and he'd be right back in the dormitories, along with the pile of homework accumulating on his desk.

Then, of course, the Weaslette had to show up and make a mess of it all.

It wasn't _really_ spying, what he had been doing. He was _going_ to go and talk to her. Eventually. Well, at least until Potter came along and she got all googly-eyed and giggly. He reckoned it would have been fairly awkward to interrupt such a conversation (if it could even be called that). Which is why he was now hiding in a tree, fuming, feeling like the most pathetic case of idiocy the wizarding world had ever had the misfortunate to see.

"God, what am I doing…" he muttered to himself, squeezing his eyes shut to block out his tempting view of Harry's back. He caught a glimpse of a bright red head rising from beside the lake and heading towards the school when he opened them, and watched its progress until it disappeared into the dark. His head was starting to pound in long, painful throbs.

It just wasn't fair. He'd had enough of the youngest Weasley the moment they said goodbye that day outside the Great Hall; he was sure of it. There was no reason for him to dwell on their more and more frequent meetings, but he found himself doing it anyway. A shameful amount of his time was dedicated to thoughts of her, of what she'd said, of how she looked when she was laughing at breakfast the other morning… Add that to the fact that he was now being shunned by most of Slytherin House due to his little rescue on the Quidditch field, and he had to admit his life had been turned almost entirely upside-down.

And now there was Potter waltzing into the picture with his oh-so-suave ways.

Draco felt a cruel smirk tug at his lips as the image of the two of them sitting close together by the lake blared in his mind. The thought of how Potter had put his arm around her shoulders so…nauseatingly…made his skin crawl, and he let out a growl of angry frustration. Suddenly taking a ride around the grounds seemed anything but relaxing. Instead, he pushed against the tree's branch with his shoes and launched himself away from the grounds, in the direction of the castle. The wind burned against his eyes and blurred his vision as he flew faster through the air, leaving the blackened lake rippling innocently behind him.


	9. A Dragon's Heartstrings

The Choices We Make

Chapter 9: A Dragon's Heartstrings

**Disclaimer: **Do I look like I own Harry Potter? Do I? DO I? Well, I don't.

**A/N: **Hey guys! This didn't take _too_ long, right? I mean, I've done worse. I think I have too many hobbies. Anyway, thanks soooo much to everyone who reviewed! You guys are amazing. Don't know what I'd do with out you!

Enjoy Chapter 9!

* * *

When Ginny woke up the next morning, a smile appeared on her face before she had even opened her eyes. She hummed during her entire shower for the first time in what seemed like ages, and even the thin beams of sunlight shining through her window seemed brighter than usual. 

It was amazing what one little conversation with a certain formerly love-struck friend could do for one's mood. Without the constant worry of getting trapped alone and awkward with Harry, she reckoned her stress level could be taking a very positive turn. She was already feeling better than ever, and when her high spirits lasted even through Snape's abysmal Potions class, she knew that everything must have been finally falling into place.

Well, almost everything. She still hadn't figured out whether Malfoy should be classified as a friend, enemy, annoyance, or any of the other possibilities that had taken up permanent residence in her brain. But whatever he was, she was not about to let him spoil her good mood. In fact, she spent the majority of her day hardly even aware of his existence.

Until starting off on her way to History of Magic, that is.

Still humming quietly to herself, Ginny dug through her bag while walking from her dormitory to Professor Binns' classroom. Her hands rummaged through scrolls and bottles of ink, double-checking that she'd remembered her latest essay, but her mind was busy reliving what had to be the most stress-free breakfast she'd had in months. She and Harry had shared a wonderfully platonic conversation, and she couldn't help but dwell on how much easier it was to talk to him since last night. No more worrying about what to say or how to act, or counting escape routes out of the corner of her eye every time he looked her way. Just the thought of it brought a grateful sigh from her lips.

Grabbing her homework and snapping her bag shut, Ginny turned onto the next corridor before realizing that it was already occupied.

"Betcha liked playing the hero, huh, Draco?"

She froze.

Blaise Zabini was leaning against the wall, flanked by several other Slytherins and facing a very livid Malfoy. "What, is Potter your new role model or something? Maybe you thought if you let him win the game _and_ saved his little girlfriend, he'd let you join his fanclub."

A shrill giggle followed, and Ginny didn't even have to look to recognize it as Pansy Parkinson's.

"Shut up, Zabini," Malfoy snapped, his mouth curling dangerously.

Blaise made to grab his wand, but stopped when he noticed Ginny's sudden appearance. A sneer of his own grew on his face, and he lowered his hand from his pocket.

"Well, speak of the devil," he said, regarding her with a mixture of glee and contempt. "Looks like you've got a stalker, Draco. I never knew you had a thing for Weasels, but…to each his own."

Malfoy's head spun in the direction Blaise was looking, and his pale eyes widened for a moment before narrowing into slits. Ginny tried hard not to flinch at the look on his face. He was glaring at her so fiercely it was as if acid was shooting from his eyes, trying to burn a hole right through her. She opened her mouth to speak, without a clue of what to say, but before she could do so much as blink, he was brushing coldly past her and stalking off down the corridor.

With a harsh laugh, the other Slytherins disappeared into a classroom, leaving Ginny standing alone in the hall with her mouth still open and her eyes swimming with confusion. She felt like she'd just jumped right into a very fast, very angry hurricane. Shaking her head slowly back and forth, she continued walking to class in a sort of baffled daze, trying desperately to sort out what had just happened.

Why had Malfoy looked at her like that? Like…like he hated her and everything about her? Ginny turned into Professor Binns' room and slumped down into a chair in the back row. Ignoring the start of the lesson, she put her head in her hands and closed her eyes momentarily. Blaise Zabini had been taunting him about what had happened during the match. She couldn't believe she hadn't realized before how horribly they must have all been treating him because of it; after all, he _had_ lost them the Quidditch Cup. He must be furious with her.

A few guilty moments later, Ginny realized how ridiculous she was being.

This was, of course, not her fault. She'd never asked him to play the hero (although she had to admit she was grateful) and he had no right to blame her for how his so-called friends were reacting. If anything, _she _should be angry with _him_. He still hadn't explained all the strange things he'd been ranting on about in the hospital, and she wasn't having much luck figuring them out on her own. All the aggravation he'd caused her definitely justified a little resentment. But of course, being Malfoy, he had to go and act like it was her fault his broom had come racing towards her unconscious body at top speed, completely ignoring the Snitch two feet in front of it.

Ginny huffed and slouched further down into her chair, tossing her essay forward when Professor Binns called out for them in his hollow voice. There was nothing for it. She would just have to ask him to his face why he was being such an inconsiderate jerk. Maybe while she was at it she could force him to explain whatever nonsense he'd been trying to get across while she was busy being choked to death by Madam Pomfrey's potions. It didn't sound very promising, even in her own head, but it was as close to a plan as she could manage. She spent the rest of the hour agonizing over how to begin such a confrontation, but when the bell finally rang, she was only left wondering how History of Magic, of all things, could have gone by so quickly.

Her sketch of a plan having undergone no further progress, Ginny glanced at her classmates stuffing pages of sleepily written notes into their bags, and looked mournfully down at her own blank parchment. Slipping it back out of sight, she slung her books over her shoulder and headed sulkily for the door.

This situation was really not going to pay off come O.W.L.s.

oooo

After class, Ginny entered the Great Hall for lunch, glanced inconspicuously over at the Slytherin table, and scowled at the absence of the usual white blond head among the rest. Walking towards the other Gryffindors, she bit her lip in worry. She _did _have an hour off after lunch, but if he didn't show up soon, it was quite possible that she'd lose her nerve entirely.

Sitting down in her usual chair, she said a quick hello to Harry and Hermione. Ron, however, had retreated behind a large copy of the Daily Prophet, and so was oblivious to her arrival.

"Since when do you get the paper, Ron?" Ginny asked, while choosing a sandwich from one of the silver trays dotting the tables.

"I don't. Nicked it from Dean during Transfiguration. I can't believe we didn't hear about this at breakfast! Everyone must have read it…"

"Read what?" Harry and Ginny asked together. Less than twenty-four hours earlier this would have been cause for a large amount of discomfort. Now they merely glanced at each other before turning their attention back to Ron's paper.

"Have a look at this!" he spread the page out over the table, his finger resting on a picture of a smiling, middle-aged woman standing in what looked like a narrow office cubicle. The headline was written in bold black letters across the top of the page.

"Member of Securities Committee reported missing; Ministry receives devastating blow," Hermione read out loud, leaning over her pumpkin juice towards the Prophet. Her eyebrows were drawn together in worry. "You don't think…Death Eaters?"

"Who else would want to weaken security at the Ministry?" Harry said quietly.

"Not at the Ministry," Ron shook his head and frowned down at the paper. "Listen: 'Early this morning the residence of Ursula Hopkins, leader of the security officials in charge of protecting Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was found empty after a four-day period of absence from work. While investigators found no immediate reason as to why she had disappeared, several reports revealed that signs of a struggle were discovered in her home.'" He glanced up at the others. "That's us, innit? She was in charge of all the spells and stuff around the castle."

"They haven't all gone then, have they?" Ginny asked anxiously, unable to keep the traces of fear that were currently crawling up her back from reflecting in her voice.

"If they were I doubt we'd all be sitting around here talking about it," said Hermione. "There must be other people keeping them going. They can't have left it all up to one person."

"Still though…" Harry's voice trailed off as his eyes lingered on the picture; the black-and-white woman was waving cheerily back at them, obviously unaware of her impending disappearance. "It can't just be a coincidence."

"Well, if they don't find her soon, they'll get a replacement, right?" Ginny suggested. "I mean as long as the school has _someone_ looking after all its enchantments—"

She stopped mid-sentence as something caught her eye outside the Great Hall. From her seat at the Gryffindor table, she had a full view of the corridor beyond the large wooden doors, and, accordingly, anyone who happened to walk past them. And this particular someone seemed to have almost glowing blonde hair….

"I have to go," she said automatically, pushing her chair away from the table and standing up, all the while trying to keep her eyes fixed on the place Malfoy had stood only seconds ago. "Sorry, I just remembered—I have to do something—See you guys later."

"Wait, what—" Harry stammered, starting to get out of his chair.

But Ginny was already rushing away from the table, completely missing the suspiciously raised eyebrows that passed between her friends, her mind set on continuing her pursuit. She stopped outside of the Great Hall, glancing feverishly up and down the corridor for any sign of Malfoy. Her eyes landed on a stone staircase leading to the dungeons, and she had a sudden spark of realization. Breaking into a run, she followed them downward.

While Ginny had never actually been to the Slytherin common room before, she knew from Harry and Ron that it was somewhere beneath the rest of the school. Hoping her hunch about Malfoy's whereabouts was right, she dodged a couple of cobwebs hanging from the moldy ceiling and stepped down into the dungeons. The dusty suits of armor lining the walls seemed rather more ominous than usual, having somehow lost the familiarity they'd acquired during her routine trips to Potions class. As she stood for a moment at the foot of the stairs, quite clueless as to where to turn next, a clattering above her made her jump. She spun around in time to see a group of third years with glistening silver and green badges on their chests rushing down the staircase; they stopped only long enough to give her own badge a contemptuous glance, before turning down a corridor on the left and disappearing from sight.

Hardly daring to believe her luck, Ginny hurried after them. Her footsteps echoed loudly off the dark stones of the dungeon floor, but she was too intent on keeping the Slytherins in sight to slow her pace. Less than a minute later, she skidded to a stop around a corner and her eyes landed on a stretch of blank grey wall. The third years backed away as a hidden door suddenly opened, and Ginny just caught a glimpse of a long, narrow room with high-backed chairs and a stone fireplace, before it swung shut with a thud.

Taking a deep breath (which she immediately regretted; the air was thick with bits of spider web), she stepped gingerly down the hall. It was only when she had come within feet of the now invisible door that she realized she didn't know the password. Cursing, she gave the stone wall a frustrated kick. Not at all surprised when this accomplished nothing, she resigned herself to waiting outside until Malfoy decided to come out again. He did have to go to class, after all. And she was too determined to give up when only a solid foot or so of rock was standing in her way.

A very solid foot, as her throbbing toes reminded her painfully.

Ginny sank down against the wall to wait. Her heart gave an enormous leap when the door swung open again after a few minutes, but it turned out only to be the third years she had followed in the first place. Now looking very suspicious towards her apparent fascination with their common room, they scurried away up the corridor, throwing hostile glances over their shoulders. Ginny sighed and glanced half-heartedly up at the closed stone door. It would have been impossible to decide whether or not she was relieved, so she settled instead on watching the spiders crawling stealthily up the dungeon wall. Luckily (or was it unluckily?), she didn't have long to sit and watch their slow progress. After she had sustained several more strange looks from the odd Slytherin on their way to class, Malfoy finally ventured out, a copy of Achievements in Charming tucked under his arm.

Not noticing her presence at first, he paused to check his pockets for his wand. As Ginny pushed herself off of the dusty floor, he glanced up through the blonde hair swept across his forehead and his eyes landed on her. Taking advantage of his moment of surprise, Ginny crossed her arms and tried to arrange her face into what she hoped was a formidable enough expression.

"So." She hadn't exactly thought this plan through very thoroughly. But as Malfoy had yet to stalk off without a word for the second time that day, she figured she had a moment to collect her thoughts. Discovering unhappily that there were no such useful things to be found in her head, she blurted out the first thing that came to her. "What is the _matter _with you?" she exclaimed.

"Excuse me?" Malfoy, it appeared, was no longer in a state of silence. "Is this some sort of routine of yours, stationing yourself outside other people's common rooms to ambush them? Because if so I suggest you seek psychological help."

Ginny scoffed, anger starting to prickle underneath her skin as her eyes glittered heatedly. "The only one who's going to need help is you, Malfoy, if you don't tell me why you've been acting like such a prick all of a sudden," she snapped, scowling at him.

"All of a sudden?" he repeated, his eyebrows flying up in mock surprise. "I'm flattered, Weaslette. And here I was under the impression that you _always_ think I'm a prick." He took in her angrily narrowed eyes. "What, did I damage your delicate feelings? Too bad Potter's not around to make it all better—I'm sure you'd just love to go back to the lake and finish snogging yourselves silly on some rock—"

"See, this is _exactly_ what I meant, you can't go two minutes without—" Ginny stopped, her hands freezing in mid-air where she had thrown them up in exasperation. Did he just say…_What_ did he just say? In the midst of all his prolonged babbling, she was sure she'd heard "Potter," "lake," and "snogging" in the same sentence. She lowered her arms and stared at him incredulously, not sure how to interpret the strange mixture of emotions that were fighting to reveal themselves in his blazing eyes. "Have—Have you been spying on me?" she asked, altogether appalled at the idea.

"As if I'd ever sink so low," Draco scoffed. "You should pick a better spot next time you and Pot-head want to go somewhere private, as—I'm sure you've realized—the grounds _aren't_."

A sneaking suspicion started to grow inside Ginny's mind, and the idea of it took her confusion to a whole new level. "Is _that_ why you're acting so mental? Because I was talking to Harry? I talk to him everyday!" she said, glaring back with the type of glare reserved specially for him.

"Yeah? Well it didn't look like such an innocent conversation from what _I _saw."

"There was nothing to see!" Ginny said, her voice rising to a shriek. "Harry and I are _friends_! And it took long enough to convince him of that—I'd rather not have to explain it to everyone else too!"

Draco blinked, a touch of uncertainty creeping onto his face. "What do you mean 'friends'?" he asked. "Everyone knows you've both been obsessed with each other from the start. And the way he was…all over you…." He looked as if he was struggling to swallow something very sour. "It's enough to make anyone sick!"

"We have _not_ been—" Ginny let out an extremely frustrated growl. There was no point arguing with him. It wasn't like she was going to accomplish anything. Nobody ever did with stupid, stubborn ferrets, in her opinion. She took a deep breath, trying to control herself. "Why do you care, anyway?" she asked finally, feeling more annoyed than angry.

"I don't," he shot back, his face suddenly wiped of any expression.

He was getting quite good at proving her right. She didn't think she'd ever met anyone so incredibly stubborn.

"And I'm supposed to believe that, after you just spent the last five minutes going ballistic because you saw me and Harry together?" she asked, darting in front of him as he tried to inch towards the stairs. "I want—no, I _deserve_ to know what's going on."

Draco glared down at her, and she was suddenly very aware of how tall he was. "You're—in—my—way," he said, pronouncing each word separately. His gray eyes turned stony in the dim light of the torches on the dungeon wall.

"And—I'm—not—moving," she said in the same rough tone, "until you give me an answer." Her heart was pounding erratically in her throat as she stared straight into his narrowed eyes.

He kept her gaze for a moment, his heavy breathing the only sound in the otherwise deserted corridor, before grabbing her shoulders and crashing his lips onto hers.

Ginny's eyes flew open in shock. Complete, mind-boggling, jaw-dropping shock. Except her jaw _couldn't_ drop, as that particular part of her had been temporarily commandeered. There was no way she could have seen this coming—although a small portion of her mind thought that she should. Being kissed by Draco Malfoy? King of All-  
Things-Slytherin? It was absolutely insane. But it wasn't.

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.

And what was worse, that sentiment was almost definitely double sided. On the one hand, having her lips touch his was surely against every law nature had ever thought to devise. It was wrong, pure and simple. Her brain was busy screaming in protest as everything it had come to believe was sent spiraling down the drain, ignoring its feeble attempts to pull them back.

But on the other…it wasn't really that bad. Yes, her heart felt like it was about to go off like a time-bomb, and her entire body was trembling as he held her against him, but aside from that….Well, to put it simply she could get used to this. The warm pressure he was putting on her lips flooded her body, reaching every nerve down to the very tips of her fingers. Her eyes fluttered shut. She thought she might understand why so many girls were crazy about him now. It was dizzying—almost intoxicating—to be kissing him. Which she suddenly realized she was doing.

She, Ginny Weasley, was kissing Draco Malfoy back. And liking it.

Ginny felt his hands tighten on her shoulders, and moaned quietly into his mouth. She reached up to tangle her fingers in his silvery hair, and suddenly, the hands and lips were gone, and it was over.

Her breath coming in soft pants, she kept her eyes closed as he pulled away from her. She could hear him breathing, and felt an involuntary twinge of regret that she could no longer feel it against her mouth.

"Does that answer your question?" she heard him whisper, his voice hoarse and out-of-breath.

Still unable to open her eyes, it took a moment for his words to penetrate the hazy mist clouding her mind. She felt similar to the way she had upon first waking up in the Hospital Wing after falling hundreds of feet on the Quidditch field. Like someone had accidentally put her brain in slow motion. Trying to jar her mind back in gear, she shook herself mentally and slowly opened her eyes.

The dungeon corridor was deserted once again.

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**A/N: Reviews** are so very yummy... 


	10. Digging Up History

The Choices We Make

Chapter 10: Digging Up History

**Disclaimer: **It's not mine! I swear! Hey, what's that? What _is _that? A chainsaw? Why would you have a—Hey! Put that down! Stop! NOOO::runs away screaming, comes back for laptop (still screaming), then runs away again::

**A/N: **Okay before you all run for your real chainsaws…I'm so so so sorry for the wait! There's been a lot of life stuff going on, not just school, but quite a few family issues as well, so writing hasn't been at the top of my priorities list lately. I know a lot of people have been emailing me to hurry it up, and a big thank you to all of them! I hope you guys enjoy Chapter 10!

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Ginny blinked and peered around the dungeon, her feet still rooted to the spot. 

Not that she really expected to see Malfoy lingering behind a rusty suit of armor after their little encounter. He was probably at the other side of the castle by now. She knew _she_ would be, if her legs had been cooperating instead of acting like they'd been completely immobilized. She drew in a shaky breath, her throat catching, and ran a hand through her disheveled hair. Her lips were still buzzing with heat, fading slowly into a dull warmth.

She thought she finally understood. Returning her scarf, saving her from being scraped off the Quidditch field in pieces, kissing her…Every one of the uncharacteristic things he'd said and done over the past week or so actually made sense, if she was willing to entertain a certain a notion. It was the only logical explanation, and if Ginny's friendship with Hermione had taught her anything, it was that logic was the only thing you could truly count on in situations such as these. And as her emotions were currently proceeding to go completely haywire, thus rendering themselves useless to reason, this was surely one of those times.

So, logically, Malfoy fancied her.

The thought sounded so ridiculous inside her head, she almost laughed out loud. Out of all the students at Hogwarts, they must have been the most unlikely combination imaginable. Except maybe for Harry and Pansy Parkinson. That also would have been a stretch. But other than that, crushes and breakups and the like were so common that, unless they were Lavender, the average person barely batted an eye at them.

She was sure though that this particular bit of potential gossip would cause quite a different response. As in dangerously bugged-out eyes, rather than batted ones. She tried to imagine her own reaction if someone had told her back in September that, before the year was out, Malfoy would have developed feelings for her. She probably would've just laughed in their face. And then checked them straight into St. Mungo's mental ward. Maybe send flowers once in a while, out of pity for their poor, addled brain, but that would have been the full extent of her involvement.

Ginny shook her head in an attempt to stem the crazy stream of thoughts running through it. She couldn't stay here all day, the part of her that was still reasonably sane reminded. Un-gluing her feet from the stone floor, she started back up the stairs, struggling to keep her mind from racing. As she emerged from the dungeons, a wave of warm air washed over her, a welcome change from the dank of the school's lower chambers.

From the looks of the empty corridor above, lunch had been over for quite a while. Ginny trudged up the marble staircase and headed for Gryffindor Tower, not taking her eyes off her feet stepping rhythmically one after the other until she reached the Fat Lady's portrait. When she did lift her eyes from the floor, it was only to meet yet another curious gaze.

She could have sworn she'd had her fill of those a couple hundred ago.

"Well!" exclaimed the Fat Lady, looking down at Ginny from behind her frame. "Someone's looking a bit shook up, aren't they? What have you been up to?"

Ginny winced at the painting's cheerful tone. "Unless you're willing to sit still for the six months it would take to explain, I probably shouldn't answer that. Dilligrout."

"Oh, go on—I never get to hear anything that happens around here," the Fat Lady continued, ignoring the password. "_My _only news comes from Violet, and lately she's been far too preoccupied with the painting of those monks on the second floor to have a good gossip. It's not like I have anywhere to go! I've got all the time in the world!"

"I just want to get into the common room," Ginny said quickly. The last thing she needed right now was a conversation with a chatty, two-dimensional woman. "Please?"

"Alright," sighed the Fat Lady, shrugging her shoulders in defeat and swinging open. "You won't find them in there, though."

Ginny stopped, one foot inside the portrait hole. "What? Find who?" she questioned, looking back over her shoulder.

"Oh, you know." She waved a painted hand in front of her face. "Those three. They came in looking for you a while ago. Wanted to know if I'd seen you, but I told them you hadn't been around—they left right after that. Don't suppose you should go find them, eh?"

"No. I don't," Ginny said bluntly, ignoring the Fat Lady's continued chatter as she climbed into the common room. The painting swung shut behind her, to Ginny's immediate relief.

Dragging herself towards the squashy red chairs in front of the fire, Ginny groaned and sank into one, her head lolling back onto the velvety fabric. Who would have known being kissed by your supposed mortal enemy would be so exhausting! Perhaps this was what going into shock felt like. Ginny grinned wryly, her eyes closed, as she imagined having to explain her symptoms to Madam Pomfrey.

'Well, yes, there's the obvious emotional exhaustion of being hit by something resembling a runaway train, but also the realization of it all can feel quite draining at times. Not to mention that strange, tingling feeling you sometimes get, where you're not sure if--'

Ginny's fairly peculiar train of thought broke, as someone called her name from behind her.

"Hey, Ginny!" She twisted around in her chair and saw Neville waving cheerfully as he walked toward her from across the room. "Where've you been? Harry and them were looking for you a minute ago."

"So I've heard," said Ginny, as he plopped down in an empty chair. She bit her lip gently. The thought of another awkward attempt at explaining her behavior to her friends was sparking a growing feeling of nervous anticipation.

"They already left—said something about going down to the library," Neville continued, oblivious to Ginny's discomfort. "Hey, we should go and meet them! I've got to research for one of Snape's essays, I never know how many sources he wants us to use. I bet Hermione knows, though, she always—"

"Actually, Neville, I'll just go by myself," Ginny interrupted, standing up from her chair. The crestfallen look appearing on his face made her instantly regret her words. She felt like she'd just kicked a puppy or something. "It's just…there's been some kind of crazy stuff going on… But how about if I see Hermione I'll tell her to head back upstairs? You know her, she's probably finished that essay ages ago. I'm sure she'd love to help," she said quickly, trying to remedy the situation.

Neville nodded, looking a little brighter, and Ginny climbed back out of the portrait hole, waving goodbye to him over her shoulder. Standing out in the hallway, she sighed and glanced around. At least she knew where _not_ to go. She didn't think she could handle a confrontation with Harry, Ron, and Hermione immediately after everything that had gone on between her and Malfoy. And her dormitory was off limits, as there was no way she could get through the common room without Neville wondering why she was back so soon.

Just as she was starting to consider going back outside to the lake, with the hope that it would be a bit more solitary than last time, her stomach growled loudly. She suddenly remembered with a pang of hunger the sandwich she'd abandoned at lunch. Weasley's weren't exactly known for having small appetites, and especially as the last thing she'd eaten was a measly piece of toast at breakfast, she was no exception. Double checking that no one was watching her (she was getting awfully paranoid these days) she hurried back down the stairs to the Entrance Hall.

The door leading to the kitchens was open a crack, and she slipped through, closing it quietly behind her. The well-lit corridor was blissfully empty as she followed it to where a large painting of a bowl of fruit hung on the wall. Grateful that Fred and George had seen fit to supply her with as many of Hogwarts secrets as they had so mischievously discovered, she reached up and scratched the pear gently with her finger.

A muffled giggle broke the quiet as the painting swung forward, revealing the entrance to the school kitchens. Trying to stifle another growl of hunger from her stomach, Ginny stepped through the opening in the wall. The warm, wafting air smelled like the beginnings of tonight's dinner: chickens roasting in huge black ovens, steak pies baking, vats of soup bubbling on the many stoves. Dozens of house elves bustled about in little aprons, stirring this, seasoning that, all looking deeply intent on their work. She tried for a moment to see them through Hermione's eyes, as if to get some insight as to why she had felt compelled to create S.P.E.W., but none of them really seemed unhappy. Most looked positively cheerful as they hurried about, tending dishes and humming to themselves occasionally as they worked.

"Miss Weasley!"

Ginny looked down as a squeaky voice cried out her name, and was met with the most cheerful face in the room. "Hello, Dobby," she said, smiling down at the beaming elf as he bowed deeply. His mismatched socks were still a beloved part of his wardrobe, she noted, giving his red and green feet an amused glance.

"Is you wanting anything, Miss?" Dobby asked, straightening up from the ground. He looked at her with wide eyes. "Is—Is you bringing Harry Potter with you?"

Ginny held back a laugh. "No, sorry, Dobby," she said kindly. "It's just me today. I can tell Harry to stop by later, though. If you wanted to see him."

Dobby's face broke into a delighted grin, and his large ears waggled. "You is most kind, Miss," he squeaked, his nose scraping the ground as he gave another hurried bow. "Dobby has been wanting to see Harry Potter very much, but Dobby is very busy down in the kitchens. There is much work to be done here, Miss." He paused, eyeing her carefully. "Miss Weasley is looking hungry. Can Dobby get Miss something to eat?"

"That'd be wonderful," Ginny said gratefully, and Dobby snapped his long fingers at the other elves working behind him. Instantly a pair of them emerged from the crowd and took her hands to guide her to chair at a small table. They hurried off as Dobby and several others arrived, balancing a tray of sandwiches between them and sliding it onto the table in front of her.

"Will that be enough, Miss?" one of them asked her, setting a glass of pumpkin juice neatly next to the silver tray.

Ginny nodded, smiling at him. "Yes, thank you. This'll be perfect." The elf bowed politely, and scurried off back to work, leaving Dobby to take care of their guest. Ginny picked up a sandwich and bit into it, sighing at how good it was to finally eat something. She finished the first one rather fast, then reached for another, eating less quickly now that her initial hunger had been satisfied. As she chewed slowly, her eyes rested on the elf sitting across from her, straightening his different colored socks absentmindedly. The green one seemed to be giving him some trouble, as it was clearly at least two times larger than his foot. Realizing something, she put her sandwich down suddenly.

"Dobby? You worked for the Malfoys before, didn't you?"

Dobby glanced up from his socks. "Why, yes, Miss," he answered, looking at her with his wide green eyes. "For many years Dobby served the Malfoy house—until Harry Potter set Dobby free! His greatness has never before shone so radiantly in Dobby's memory, Miss, though Dobby is knowing that Harry Potter achieves great things in every moment of his life, in every hour of his day—"

"Yes, Dobby," Ginny interrupted, stopping him from continuing further off-subject. She hadn't exactly brought up this particular topic to hear another Harry-induced rant. "But you lived in the Malfoy's house? You took care of them? Like, you know, when Mal—Draco—was younger?" It felt strange to have his first name on her tongue. But as there was more than one Malfoy in question, she thought it would have been odd to use his surname.

"Yes, Dobby did, Miss," the elf answered, puzzled. "But why…?"

"I was just wondering," Ginny continued, hoping she wasn't about to commit a serious invasion of privacy. "What—What you can tell me about them. Him. I mean…" She hesitated. "What was he like?"

"Master Draco?" Dobby said, not noticing the title he automatically gave his former owner. Ginny didn't bother to correct him. "Dobby helped raise Master Draco from a baby. He and Dobby got along well, Miss. I was always sneaking him sweets in the kitchen— his parents was not wanting him to have them." Dobby looked at her sheepishly. "You is not telling anyone, Miss?"

"You're secret's safe with me," Ginny promised, smiling.

Looking more confident, Dobby straightened up in his chair, his large ears perked. "Master Draco was asking Dobby to make him cookies all the time, they were his favorites," he continued brightly. "Once, Dobby was busy in a different wing of the manor, and Master Draco tried to make them all by hisself! Such a mess Dobby had never seen, Miss…"

Ginny laughed out loud, trying to picture Malfoy as a little blond boy covered in flour and standing in the middle of his ruined attempts at cookie-baking. She had never wondered about his childhood before, had never even connected Dobby with the family he used to serve. She'd always just assumed Malfoy had been the type to zap ants with his father's wand and throw rocks at passing owls and whatnot. Aprons and cookie-dough definitely weren't what she'd imagined. Too bad nobody had ever bought him an Easy-Bake. Would have saved Dobby a load of trouble.

Glancing at a clock hanging on the kitchen wall, Ginny was reminded that her free period was almost over.

"Well, I'd better go. Class starts in five minutes," she said, regretful that she couldn't stay and listen to more of Malfoy's childhood antics. "Thanks for the sandwiches, Dobby. And the stories." She grinned at the elf and stood as he got up to lead her back to the door.

"A pleasure, Miss Weasley," he said, turning around in front of the portrait hole. His huge green eyes peered up at her expectantly. "You will remember? Harry Potter?"

"Promise," Ginny said, trying again to keep a straight face at his obsession with her friend. "I'll tell him to come visit you as soon as I see him."

Dobby beamed up at her, his eyes shining happily.

oooo

The next day was one of the sunniest Hogwarts had seen in months of rain and chill air. The light slanted in through the windows in all directions, sparing Filch his usual task of lighting the torches on the walls of the corridors. Even he seemed brightened by the weather, his trademark scowl of loathing lessening to one of only mild dislike.

All things considered, it was quite pleasant walking down the corridor to class that afternoon, in Ginny's opinion. She had been having what could easily be called a relaxing day, with an unusually low level of drama and absolutely no sign of Malfoy whatsoever. She'd woken up on a beautiful morning, had breakfast with her friends, and gone to her boring classes (sadly, not improved by the weather), without a single bit of trouble.

He must be avoiding her.

Ginny sighed and watched as a sparrow fluttered through the courtyard outside the window. It was much too nice of a day to let him drag her down. She couldn't help thinking though that maybe he had a good reason to avoid her, after everything. Maybe he was ashamed of his untimely exit in the dungeons, or perhaps he was just being too much of a coward to show his face. Whatever it was, she was starting to let it get to her in a big way.

"Stupid Malfoy," she muttered to herself, turning away from the window and continuing down the hall. If he wanted to avoid her, well, two could play at that game. She could be just as stubborn as anyone, and if he thought he'd just wait around for her to do something about their little…_situation_, she was going to prove him wrong once and for—

"Ooph!"

In her attempt to turn the corner into the Transfiguration corridor, Ginny collided with something very solid. Catching her balance to keep from sprawling over backwards, she glanced up into a pair of grey eyes.

'Speak of the devil…and he appears,' she thought cynically, trying hard not to think about the last time she'd been fixed with those eyes. She really needed her legs in their proper, non-liquefied condition if she had any hope of getting out of this one.

Lucky for her, Malfoy didn't seem in the mood for melting body parts. He smirked down at her, looking completely unfazed by their close proximity. "We've got to stop meeting like this, Weaslette," he drawled, his voice oozing sarcasm. "People might start to talk."

Ginny was taken aback for a moment at his sudden lack of emotion. He seemed so…collected. Like the whole dungeon episode had never even happened. But looking up at him, suddenly with nothing to say, she thought she might have caught a hint of panic behind his perfectly crafted smirk. His mouth opened again, no doubt to comment on her uncharacteristic silence, but snapped shut as the sound of voices met their ears.

"I know, can you believe that?" someone was saying. "It still had spines! I swear, if that porcupine doesn't turn into a decent pillow soon, McGonagall's going to fail me."

Another voice laughed from down the corridor, sounding nearer. Feet frozen to the ground, Ginny could hear their footsteps echoing off the stone floor as they approached. She looked around frantically for an escape from what would surely be the start of some very unwanted rumors involving her and Malfoy, and spotted a familiar tapestry hanging behind a suit of armor. Snapping out of her immobile state, she grabbed Malfoy by the sleeve of his robe.

"Quick! In here!" she whispered, dragging him towards the tapestry.

"Oi! What do you think you're—"

Ginny ignored his protests and ripped the edge of the tapestry back from the wall. Sure enough, a dark, slightly cramped closet appeared from behind it. Thank Merlin she was related to a pair of troublemaking idiots who knew the school better than their own bedrooms.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Malfoy hissed again, as she pulled him into the closet after her.

"Shut up! They'll hear us, you moron!" Ginny whispered, flapping her hand at him to be quiet and pressing her ear to the tapestry. She could still hear the students out in the corridor if she ignored Malfoy's indignant huffing behind her.

"—should have seen your face, when it started shooting quills left and right…priceless, I tell you…."

The voices finally faded, and Ginny assumed they'd turned the corner out of earshot. She let out a huge sigh of relief. Taking her head away from the tapestry and turning around, she could just make out the outline of Malfoy sulking against the wall.

"Really don't see why you had to drag us into a bloody broom cupboard," he grumbled, staring down at his crossed arms and not meeting her eyes.

"Well at least it's not a potted plant," she shot back. She tried to keep her voice low in case anyone else decided to pass by their little hideout, but his ungrateful attitude was really starting to annoy her. But, then again, what else was new.

Malfoy glanced up, his eyes shooting daggers at her through the semi-darkness. "Like I needed reminding of _that_ happy memory," he said, and Ginny could almost see the sarcasm dripping from his words. "Really, I'd almost managed to repress it completely, until you had to go and dig it up again. Thanks a lot, Weaslette."

"The only thing being repressed is my gag reflex, Malfoy, from remembering your slimy lips on mine!" Ginny retorted, all attempts at keeping her voice down abandoned. She was breathing hard now, hardly noticing that she had just been the first to mention their last encounter.

"Oh, real witty," Malfoy said, his eyes getting steely as he took a step away from the wall. "What are you going to do next? Pull my hair? Careful now—wouldn't want to get any of my Slytherin germs on your precious Gryffindor self."

"A little late for that, don't you think?" Ginny replied mockingly. "Thanks to you we're _far_ past the stage where germs are kept separate."

"Doesn't mean I want to risk getting contaminated with whatever diseases you've picked up in your filthy common room! There's no telling what kinds of nasty critters you've got crawling around in there. It's a wonder delicate little Potter hasn't dropped dead already from dragon pox or whatnot."

"You live in the bloody dungeons!" Ginny yelled, feeling red-hot anger flood her body at his words. This was how she was supposed to feel around him. This made more sense. "If anyone's dormitory is diseased it's yours, what with all the slime and Snape's leftover potions fermenting, or—or—"

"Better than having to see Potter's ugly face every night—"

"What _is_ it with you and insulting Harry every two minutes?" Ginny interrupted angrily. "Can't you ever think of anything to say that doesn't involve him and his face? I mean are you really _that _obsessed with him?"

Draco's stared at her, flabbergasted. "Me? Obsessed? What about _you_?! All those years you followed him around like a little puppy dog, begging for a scrap of attention, and now you want everyone to just conveniently forget about it? You're a piece of work, Weaslette."

"I—I'm not—I did _not_ follow him around like a puppy dog!" Ginny spluttered. "And that's none of your business anyway! You've just been so jealous all these years that people actually like Harry—"

"Worship him, you mean? No one really likes him. Who could, with all that 'I'm a hero of the people so bow down while I save the world' nonsense? You know I'm right, Weaslette, there's no point denying it."

Ginny scoffed. "You're the one in denial, over what a pathetic loser you've been since the day you were born."

"At least I wasn't born in my own backyard!"

"Yeah, because the sewer must have been so much more comfortable!"

"A lot more so than the one _you_ live in!"

"Conceited ferret!"

"Potter-obsessed freak!"

She wasn't sure how it had happened—given the circumstances—but the next thing she knew their lips were fused together, arms struggling to wrap around each other in the cramped space of the closet. It was that exact state of forced proximity that was causing this, obviously. She wouldn't have allowed it if it weren't for how compromising a position they were already in, though that didn't explain the fuzziness in the area of who grabbed who first. She had to admit there was some uncertainty there.

But, either way, it was definitely the closet's fault.

Finally managing to wrap her arms around his neck, Ginny leaned deeper into the kiss. They stumbled and almost fell as Malfoy backed up against the wall, never breaking the intense contact of their lips. Ginny's mind raced with a million feeble protests and unconvincing reasons as to why this was wrong, wrong, wrong…but the fire that had been building inside of her since the moment she dragged him behind the tapestry swallowed them all into its blazing heat, leaving behind only an irresistible need to tighten her arms and pull him closer.

Draco was in heaven. She was kissing him. He was kissing her. His brain couldn't seem to function on any level higher than that, and he was glad—that way he wasn't distracted by any useless anticipation of what would be said when they finally pulled apart. Her long red hair brushed against his face, and he brought a hand around to the small of her back, pulling her closer against his chest. He buried his other hand in her hair, reveling in the long strands of softness running between his fingers and the light pressure of her fingernails scraping against his shoulder blades. He never wanted it to stop. It didn't matter that she was a Gryffindor, and Harry Potter's loyal friend, and someone he had meant to despise for the rest of his natural life.

He was falling. Hard.

Far too soon in his opinion, they broke apart, lungs burning for air.

Ginny could feel her hands shaking against his back, but didn't bother to remove them as she glanced up into his face. His hair was disheveled where her hands had run through it, his cheeks glowing a faint pink under his pale skin. If there had been a mirror around, she was sure she would have looked just as nervous and surprised at her own actions as he did. Neither of them moved, except for the faint panting coming from between their burning lips, until Ginny finally recovered enough to speak.

"So," she swallowed, and attempted a weak smile, "no disappearing act this time?"

Draco was still staring at her, until her voice brought him out of his muddled thoughts. "Huh? Oh. Right," he said, awareness fighting its way back to the front of his mind. He felt his cheeks grow warm as he remembered his rather cowardly exit. "Sorry about that," he said finally, ducking his eyes and grinning in embarrassment.

"That's okay," Ginny said, her smile growing stronger. "You'll just have to bake me some cookies to get me to forgive you." Draco looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "Oh, come on, I'm sure Dobby would let you use the kitchens. He'd love to see how much you've improved." She could barely get out the last words as laughter threatened to escape her; the look of realization—not to mention horror—growing on his face was just too much for her to handle.

"I'm going to kill that elf…" Draco growled.

Laughing, Ginny turned away from him and lifted the tapestry, pulling him out of the closet by his sleeve before he could get too far on his homicide plans. The corridor outside was empty. They were definitely late for their next classes, but she couldn't help feel at least a little grateful that no one was around to see them climb out from behind the décor together.

They stopped outside the closet, and once Draco's grumbling had subsided, stood staring at each other for a moment before speaking.

Ginny cleared her throat and swallowed the rest of her laughter. "Well, we'd better go. Classes probably started a while ago," she said, letting go of the sleeve of his robes.

"Yeah…"

Ginny could sense that they were in danger of descending into awkward silence. "So…" she started, really not looking forward to more uncomfortable breaks in conversation. "I'll see you later, then."

"Right. See you."

"Uhuh. Bye."

"Bye."

Both of them laughed nervously as they realized they'd completely missed their cues to leave.

Ginny fidgeted with the end of her sleeve and took a deep breath. "Bye," she said again, finally turning around and starting off towards the next corridor. It wasn't too difficult not to look back as she walked, but she still had to bite her lip pretty darn hard to keep from smiling.


End file.
